Of Cows and Crabs

Right here, meet the Crabby Cows, a couple of editors in desperate need of a good story and a double shot of bourbon, straight up.

I'm working on the theory that Miss Snark is their cousin and Evil Editor their mad uncle.

Poppies

We observed the holiday on Monday, but the true date for Memorial Day is today, May 31. Like so much in our plastic-coated, fast-food, cellphone connected world, even our days of mourning and memory are scheduled for maximum convenience.

I spent a fair amount of that weekend watching Memorial Day movie marathons on Turner Classic Movies and AMC, mostly during breaks from my rewrite. I watched Bridge on the River Kwai, The Great Escape, A Bridge Too Far, The Battle of Britain, The Longest Day, bunch of others, movies made from 1944 through 1977. I appreciated the general quality of the flicks - solid filming, solid acting, understated suspense, excellent pacing, good characterizations. I'm not a fan of the special effects extravaganzas Hollywood churns out with increasing frequency.

Know what struck me? The number of dead soldiers rolling down hills, the lack of bulletproof vests, the sheer numbers, over and over. Know what else struck me? Every movie I watched was about WWII.

TCM and AMC are free movie channels. They play older movies. I didn't expect anything about Desert Storm, but I figured somebody on some channel would be showing Full Metal Jacket or Apocalypse Now or Platoon, or even The Deer Hunter.

No. Korea is largely forgotten. Vietnam remains an unpopular war, the gorilla in the living room nobody wants to discuss. It always will be. Or at least until my generation passes away.

I grew up with those WWII movies. I watched them on television, saw some of them in the theaters when they first came out. I watched the Vietnam War in realtime, or close enough, thanks to the magic of videotape and Walter Cronkite. When I was a kid, I thought war was normal. I'd never known a time when my country wasn't fighting one, never knew a newscast that didn't have guys in green camouflage hunkering under helicoptor blades that blew jungle vegetation every which way.

Vietnam shaped my current attitude and judgments about war. Despite 9/11, despite Saddam Hussein and Osama Bin Laden, I still think war is about the worst horror we can visit on one another, a horror that should be approached with all the fear and awe that it deserves.

This is the most you'll hear me speak on this subject. What thoughts and feelings I hold you'll find in my writing. To all the valiant men and women in uniform, my most profound thanks and heartfelt prayers for your safety are yours. To the families of those taken too soon, my sincerest sorrow that it couldn't have worked out differently.

Of Mushrooms and Mindy

The circus may not work out because I'd look awful in a leotard and I don't want to be in the sideshow. So I wandered off to Sandra's to find out that I won a contest. Spinetingler Magazine is holding a Cozy Noir contest. See Sandra's blog for details. She wanted definitions for Cozy Noir. So I entered. Here it is:

Cozy Noir is like a Glock in bunny slippers.

Check it out. There were some pretty funny entries.

Back down the rabbit hole. I have an appointment with a catepillar smoking a hookah.

Down the Rabbit Hole

It's official. I can no longer bear to read my own work. I am giving up writing to join the circus. Then I'll retire to Paris and have Lala Scrivano write my memoirs while I swill gin and beer and mutter Gunga Din at discrete intervals. Or should that be discreet intervals?

Anybody know? That's a serious question because I actually use that phrase on my second page.

See, that's the problem. I've read this thing five hundred million times and only now am I wondering if it's discrete or discreet.

Off to the cabana party at E. Ann Bardawill's.

Error 404: Lisa not found

Actually, she's surfaced, here.

A flash fiction of hers Error 404: Life not Found got reprinted by another e-zine, here but Lisa didn't link to it. So I will. Lisa's bio is here.

Way to go, Lisa!

Doo-doo Heads can spoil even the nicest day...

Over here the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America list the twenty worst agents in the world. Here they are:

* The Abacus Group Literary Agency
* Allred and Allred Literary Agents (refers clients to "book doctor" Victor West of Pacific Literary Services)
* Capital Literary Agency (formerly American Literary Agents of Washington, Inc.)
* Barbara Bauer Literary Agency
* Benedict & Associates (also d/b/a B.A. Literary Agency)
* Sherwood Broome, Inc.
* Desert Rose Literary Agency
* Arthur Fleming Associates
* Finesse Literary Agency (Karen Carr)
* Brock Gannon Literary Agency
* Harris Literary Agency
* The Literary Agency Group, which includes the following:
Children's Literary Agency
Christian Literary Agency
New York Literary Agency
Poets Literary Agency
The Screenplay Agency
Stylus Literary Agency (formerly ST Literary Agency)
Writers Literary & Publishing Services Company (the editing arm of the above-mentioned agencies)
* Martin-McLean Literary Associates
* Mocknick Productions Literary Agency, Inc.
* B.K. Nelson, Inc.
* The Robins Agency (Cris Robins)
* Michele Rooney Literary Agency (also d/b/a Creative Literary Agency and Simply Nonfiction)
* Southeast Literary Agency
* Mark Sullivan Associates
* West Coast Literary Associates (also d/b/a California Literary Services)

Number 4 on the list, a certain Barbara Bauer apparently took exception to being on the list and called the woman who runs the web hosting of Absolute Write Forums which posted that list to threaten lawsuits and mayhem and what not. Hence, a forum with a wealth of information on publishing and writing got wiped off the face of the internet.

Very poor show, Barbara Bauer. Especially since Miss Snark explains very nicely why Absolute Write and The Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America included you on that list.

So, kids - there are sharks in the publishing waters. Be leery when you query. Check names and do your research before attaching those stamps and pass this list along. Jim C. Hines has some excellent ideas on how best to do that.

Technorati Tag:

Barbara Bauer

Rewrite progress

So...I'm chugging right along. After yanking three chapters and fifteen odd pages from those first fifty pages that the Prompt Agent of several days ago suggested were repetious and needed to get up to speed sooner...E. Ann Bardawill has approved the first 30 pages. This rewrite should be done...(carry two, divide by three, then take the whole thing to the third power....)

Before the twins head off to college.

I need an aspirin.

Back to revisions.

Ginsu Tongue

Meet Angie, fellow author and Arizonian, and, as it turns out a lurker and closet humorist. We met at Cornelia Read's and Lee Child's book signing at The Poisoned Pen in Scottsdale on Saturday.

Angie's doing a write-up of the signing for Spinetingler Magazine so I won't reiterate it here, except to say that Cornelia showed me half her tattoos and Lee said he knew my name from the blogs.

I do hope I haven't said anything terribly stupid.

It was my first author signing except for one I went to many years ago in Philadelphia. That probably seems incredible being I'm a writer and all, and it is incredible because the Poisoned Pen is all of 15 minutes from my house, either one of their branches, and they have signings every half hour or so. I'm a slow learner, okay? I got there late because the kids had a Tae Kwon Do competition (yes, they did very well). I couldn't wait to read Cornelia's book, A Field of Darkness so I went to (speak very low) Borders to pick up a copy and did some pre-reading before the signing.

Damn. It's good. I mean, really, really good.

Really good.

Like amazingly really good.

Did I mention that I like it?

So speed down to your favorite book seller, ignoring red lights, stop signs, and little old ladies in crosswalks, to pick up a copy. While you're at it make sure all the other copies that bookseller carries of A Field of Darkness are turned face out. If you can't find it at your local bookseller, make them order it in for you.

And, if you're wondering about the title of this blog post? You have to follow the links, grasshopper.

Imagine had the cable gone out

So, the little boy comes screeching into the living room, horror written across his features.

"Ma! We're out of spiker gel!"

Faster than a speeding bullet

...yesterday's agent has declined HINDSIGHT. She included a pageful of good-natured and insightful commentary, an invitation to resubmit, and encouragement. She also found a typo - a whopper.

So, not too shabby and I'm still in love. She was way up on my list for querying, so I'm pleased with the response.

Is it a rejection when they want to see it again? I've had that from a couple of others, who likewise gave me fine feedback. This is the first commentary I've had that specifically addresses the first 50 pages. It does mirror commentary another Bunion made to me recently, although her comments referenced the story a little further along.

So, I'm listening and now partials will not be sent out until I feel I've addressed this agent's issues.

This whole process has been interesting, empowering. Rejections used to upset me, now I take what I can from them and move on. I stand in awe of writers who get asked for one full, then get an offer from that agent. I'm not sure where all this fits on the 100 rejections scale. It's more like circling in, each rendition getting stronger until I finally hit that bullseye.

My day is coming. I just have to be ready, when it does.

And no, I won't tell you who this agent is. That turnaround time is a fluke. I hit the agent-space-time continuum at the right moment. I don't expect it to ever repeat.

Back to revisions.

Where I am today...

Kathie wants to know where I am today. She hopes I'm writing furiously.

I am writing. But not furiously. I am writing glacially. One word, one phrase, one sentence at a time. I am pulling out sentences and tweaking others. I am restructuring the plot, letting in light and air...

In short I am doing the things two people who very much know what they are talking about told me is needed to make HINDSIGHT a success.

Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.

Speaking of fulls. No more of them go out until HINDSIGHT's ready. Partials, not a problem.

Speaking of partials. Today, I got the funniest request EVER for a partial. (And I have had some pretty funny requests for partials, and for fulls. I've even had some pretty damned good rejections.)

First off, it came in an SASE. Much as I don't want to admit it, I don't think I've had any requests come by SASEs. Doesn't mean I think Joe Konrath is right on the SASE quandary, just means, on THIS round of queries, they've contained nothing but rejections. And so I figured with today's envelope.

"Okay, who doesn't want it this time?" I pry the envelope open to find the agent has returned my original query in my SASE.

With comments.

Oh shit.

I got the agent's name wrong. (Pause for collective cringe.) She kindly offered that I could address her by her first name.
.
.
Hell hasn't frozen over yet. She will be Ms. Patient-and-Most-Merciful Agent until I get over my chagrin, or she asks for my full, neither of which may happen.

She tells me the first pages I enclosed with the query were funny as all get out, but notes that I'd failed to specify a genre.

I called HINDSIGHT a 'tale'. That's because Women's Fiction is supposed to be serious, my protag is too old for Chick Lit, and I'm too old to write it. I thought I could call it Urban Fantasy, except I have no werewolves or WERECATS (Hi, Rachel! *waves*) and the only bloodsucker in the story is a lawyer.

Besides, I don't write fantasy. Much.

Okay, okay, I left out the genre on purpose. It's a women's fiction and I'm a wuss.

She also noticed that I repeated myself in my query and wondered if it was in keeping with the book's theme.

Much as I want to pretend it does, it actually had to do with repeating myself. I wrote that query before Lala Scrivano showed me How to Write a Query Letter. Should this round of queries fail, the Land of Agency will be heartened to know that future queries will be a helluva lot better and much shorter.

So, I read and I squirm and I remind myself that I'm a professional and this agent is doing me a service by pointing out where things could be improved. I tell myself, 'Suck it up, already! Take it in the good-natured way she intends and don't make the same mistakes again.'

Then, there, in the corner, is the invitation to send her 50 pages, with instructions how to do so written up the side of the page.

OMG! It's A Wonderful Life with myself playing Jimmy Stewart's role.

Much later, I stuff the reply back into its SASE. That's when I notice it, written in the lower left hand corner of the envelope, in neat little script, script far neater than what I can manage with a stencil, much less freehand:

"NOT A REJECTION"

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

I'm in love.

What am I doing today?

I am rereading fifty pages, pulling out a sentence here, tweaking another there, fixing the commas, catching the your/you'res and deciding, with an unjaundiced eye, 'Is this ready? Is it funny? Is it the best that I can send?'

Then I'll send it.

I'm not a Real Estate Agent...or a TV Infomercial Host

For the record, I'm not using the photo in my profile now for my highlight page at Spinetingler. It reminds me too much of the photo of Lori Prokop that Lee Goldberg keeps posting at his blog. I need something more writerly. Maybe Dorothy Parkeresque like this:

But not like this:

Not that I could squeeze into the dress in that first picture. And even if I could, the boobs would never make it without the help of lots of high-tensile fibers.

Sometimes I feel like this (see the similarity?):


But would rather, you all think of me like this:

Minus the beard and the manly bits.

And I'll skip the tragic ending.

In case anybody is wondering...

Yes, that photo is me.

No, it's not my graduation photo.

Yes, it's not me now. It's me 9 years ago in a family portrait. What you don't see is me trying to keep squirmy six month old twins facing the camera.

The husband is scanning photos. This one was readily available. That's because Sandra wants a photo, but not the skank photo I had up here. The skank photo was me after 48 hours at a writers' conference with no sleep. I was probably also drunk, and not with success.

No, Sandra doesn't want my photo because she's 'into' me, she wants my photo for improper purposes. Spinetingler Magazine wants to do a profile on me for the summer issue. I don't know why. I'm not terribly interesting. She's also making me give her 150 words of copy about myself.

Yes, I've farmed that out to another Bunion. They know how to make up stuff about me...er...KNOW ME best. No, the incident with the Senator and the chocolate-covered Chippendale won't be in it.

No, I won't tell you my age in this photo, but it's pretty damned old. I won't tell you my age in the old skanky photo because it was pretty damned much older. And for those of you who checked out my MySpace profile, I'm not really 31. I'm mumble... mumble... er... muffle...years older than 31.

I am looking for a photo that is more recent than the last ice age. Too many photos got lost in a harddisk crash a few years ago and I'm too lazy to go looking. Most of my photos are of my kids anyway.

I should have a contest, 'Guess M.G.'s age.':

First prize: A weekend in Phoenix at the end of June (all the attendees of Thrillerfest get that one)

Second prize: A week in Phoenix at the end of June (the attendees who figure they'll kill two scorpions with one foot stomp by setting up booksignings get that one.)

Problem is, nobody in their right mind is in Phoenix at the end of June. Even fewer are in Phoenix at the end of July. We're all at our mountain places, or our seashore places or holed up in our air-conditioned houses, waiting for the sun to go down so we can float in our pools and sip margaritas under moonshine while the temperature is a balmy 107 degrees. We're sure as hell not risking third-degree burns from our seatbelt apparatus or any other projecting bits of metal left in the sun too long to hang out in bookstores.

Back to revisions.

Blogging with Geoffrey Chaucer

He hath a blog and it's rite hir.

Dust off your middle englisshe and hed on over. Geoffrey's dispensing advyce on everything from hous repares to relationshyp issues. Anybody who has rede any of my wyrk knows that I've two novels that make heavy use of Chaucere, one of hem ys HINDSIGHT.

Put down your beverages.

Adios, once again.

Revision is difficult. I thought I was getting close to finishing and fellow Bunion, E. Ann Bardawill comes along and makes it clear that I need yet another dissection in those last 120 pages or so.

I'm off to do it. I'll be back, but writing comes first.

Meanwhile - go mess with www.myspace.com like Joe Konrath says to do. It's a mystical place full of young people who crack gum and play gangsta rap.

I hope my kids never, ever find it.

Oh - and lie about your birthdate. They actually make your age and your astrological sign public. Now how much more would it take for somebody to steal your identity?

EDITED TO ADD:

Oh - if you want to find me at MySpace and want to be my friend over there, I'm at http://www.myspace.com/mgtarquini. I think the profile is about as far as I'm going with it.

ALSO EDITED TO ADD:

My posted age is soooo not my age. But my real age is so large, not everybody can count that high, at least, not the majority of the denizens of MySpace.

Yes, I lied. I lied big time.

Deal.

Advice from an expert

Richard Lewis kindly invited submissions of the first 1000 words of writing to give opinions, critique and let us know whether he'd continue reading. He is the author of The Flame Tree, a YA work which first pages mock me from Amazon in their excellence, and one that eludes all efforts to buy it with my nice little discount at Borders because it's always sold out. His second novel The Killing Sea is due to be released in December. It may sound familiar to readers of Publisher's Marketplace because the film rights were recently sold. Richard only had four responses to his invitation, but I've a feeling that what can be learned from those responses will make it seem like he read many more than he did.

The first two works are up, one of them mine, a Middle Grade work that really wants to be a YA or an adult novel and is stunted for the effort to 'simple it down' to the MG level. I'm not sure where I'll go with Juan Marco, but Richard convinces me of the importance to trust my gut and write without fear, even for the younger readers. His help is much appreciated and I urge you all to pop over and scarf up what wisdom you might from his critiques.

Aside from the critiques, Richard's is an interesting blog in general, so a recommended read anyway. And if you really want a laugh, follow his travails as Richard attempts to read Ulysses in a year.

Department of Redundancy Department

Taking my example from Barry Eisler, never again will you read me type, patently obvious.

Henceforth, patent shall be sufficient.

Thus sayeth the bard Makesbeer

Revision and revision and revision
creeps in this petty mess from page to page
to the last syllable of reworded sublime
And all my adverbs slayed like blighted mules
the way to musty breath. Out, OUT, brief tangle
I write like a waking horror, a nerve frayer.

So...M.G.! How are the revisions going?

Quoth the M.G.: Nevermore.