Yesterday, as a member of the legion of Calgary-based geeks, I was made aware of an article published in the Calgary Herald entitled "It's comic how starstruck some people can be." Speaking on the colossally successful Calgary Comic & Entertainment Expo, the writer, Kevin Brooker, confesses that he is baffled by "how many fans appear anxious to meet their screen idols at events like this (dressed up in costumes, of course), even when it's a sub-Nimoy contingent like this one. What's the real draw? Seeing? Touching? Reading their scrawled names on your program?"
It almost goes without saying that this touched off a nerve in the Calgary Expo community, with numerous commenters turning out to shake their heads in admonishment at the perceived small-mindedness of Brooker and the banality of the article's tone and intent. Lindsay Thomas AKA Emily Expo, an Assistant Director of the Expo, wrote a fantastic defence of the Expo's merits, and I feel no strong need to add to the voices chiming in that it is a wonderful show that features world-class individuals and exhibits.
I actually think that we've all missed the real heart of Brooker's article. I know it's tempting to dismiss Brooker's stories about Gordie Howe and the Three Stooges as patronizing name-dropping (and given the pithy writing, I succumbed to that temptation almost immediately), but let's give him the benefit of the doubt for a moment. It's not that he doesn't "get" comics, movies, cartoons, and all the other fantastic things that are Expo mainstays. It's that he doesn't "get" the desire for people to meet their heroes.
Pointing to his own disappointing or mediocre experiences with Gordie Howe and the Three Stooges, Brooker can't help coming off as a bitter curmudgeon, lamenting "what a strange business is the show business." He speaks of these encounters in a sort of wistful, broken kind of way, admitting that he did not think this way at the time, though he does now. The implication, of course, is that with age comes wisdom, though in Brooker's case it seems more like that with age came complacency.
I say this because in my experience, a desire to meet the people who inspire us is anything but nonsensical. Asked point-blank what makes it so special, I doubt that most fans could articulate what it is that makes them so...fanatical. Pressed into a corner, most will answer with a vague sort of supposition that meeting their idols in person as opposed to seeing them on a TV screen makes it, in a word, "real." It's that monosyllabic answer that I think drives people like Brooker mad with envy and confusion. Yet it connotes all the information that you need to know.
This past Monday, I had the good fortune of attending a reading by Neil Gaiman. It was a massive event, attended by 1100 people, with tickets being snatched up within 60 seconds of becoming available. Gaiman read from five different pieces, spoke briefly on his personal experiences in writing, and did a short Q&A from a sheaf of prepared questions. There was no signing, no one-on-one interaction, not even a period where the audience directly asked questions of this great author. In a man like Brooker's view, we could very likely have achieved the same experience by staying home and reading Gaiman's works with the afterwords included.
In my view, I will never forget this experience.
How can I have such a romanticized view of what appears to be a distant, unemotionally involved event? It goes back to that one word answer: "real."
We want to meet our heroes because we want to see them made solid. What Brooker fails to get, and what anyone who has ever been inspired by another human being can tell you, is that seeing our heroes in pure, unfiltered normalcy is what truly shows us what we are capable of. I have no illusions that I am not the same man as Neil Gaiman. I know that our experiences in life are completely different. Yet in the moments when he stood on stage, I saw him as a person.
Then, it all becomes real. The unachievable becomes achievable. The fantastical becomes tangible. The impossible becomes possible. The dream becomes reality. It is crystalized. We are people, and some people can achieve great things.
We want to stand close to these individuals because we hope beyond all hope that just a measure of their seemingly limitless wonder will rub off on us, and then we're astonished to find that it has, but not in the way we thought. Rather, they've drawn out something from within us we never knew we had, but it was always there.
Brooker would call it comic. I would call it real.
It almost goes without saying that this touched off a nerve in the Calgary Expo community, with numerous commenters turning out to shake their heads in admonishment at the perceived small-mindedness of Brooker and the banality of the article's tone and intent. Lindsay Thomas AKA Emily Expo, an Assistant Director of the Expo, wrote a fantastic defence of the Expo's merits, and I feel no strong need to add to the voices chiming in that it is a wonderful show that features world-class individuals and exhibits.
Kay Pike Fashion via Compfight cc |
Pointing to his own disappointing or mediocre experiences with Gordie Howe and the Three Stooges, Brooker can't help coming off as a bitter curmudgeon, lamenting "what a strange business is the show business." He speaks of these encounters in a sort of wistful, broken kind of way, admitting that he did not think this way at the time, though he does now. The implication, of course, is that with age comes wisdom, though in Brooker's case it seems more like that with age came complacency.
I say this because in my experience, a desire to meet the people who inspire us is anything but nonsensical. Asked point-blank what makes it so special, I doubt that most fans could articulate what it is that makes them so...fanatical. Pressed into a corner, most will answer with a vague sort of supposition that meeting their idols in person as opposed to seeing them on a TV screen makes it, in a word, "real." It's that monosyllabic answer that I think drives people like Brooker mad with envy and confusion. Yet it connotes all the information that you need to know.
This past Monday, I had the good fortune of attending a reading by Neil Gaiman. It was a massive event, attended by 1100 people, with tickets being snatched up within 60 seconds of becoming available. Gaiman read from five different pieces, spoke briefly on his personal experiences in writing, and did a short Q&A from a sheaf of prepared questions. There was no signing, no one-on-one interaction, not even a period where the audience directly asked questions of this great author. In a man like Brooker's view, we could very likely have achieved the same experience by staying home and reading Gaiman's works with the afterwords included.
In my view, I will never forget this experience.
How can I have such a romanticized view of what appears to be a distant, unemotionally involved event? It goes back to that one word answer: "real."
We want to meet our heroes because we want to see them made solid. What Brooker fails to get, and what anyone who has ever been inspired by another human being can tell you, is that seeing our heroes in pure, unfiltered normalcy is what truly shows us what we are capable of. I have no illusions that I am not the same man as Neil Gaiman. I know that our experiences in life are completely different. Yet in the moments when he stood on stage, I saw him as a person.
Then, it all becomes real. The unachievable becomes achievable. The fantastical becomes tangible. The impossible becomes possible. The dream becomes reality. It is crystalized. We are people, and some people can achieve great things.
We want to stand close to these individuals because we hope beyond all hope that just a measure of their seemingly limitless wonder will rub off on us, and then we're astonished to find that it has, but not in the way we thought. Rather, they've drawn out something from within us we never knew we had, but it was always there.
Brooker would call it comic. I would call it real.
No, it's not about Olympics.
I've had several conversations with peers, profs and professionals about the merits and flaws of writing contests. The most basic distillation of the pros and cons can be broken down like this:
Pros
- Name recognition
- Award money often exceeding that from a regular publication
- A deadline to work towards
- Professional peer review
Cons
- Entry fees
- Possible scams, though rare, can occur
- Narrowing your work to fit a guideline
It also bears mentioning that writing contests, in many ways, are the same as professional publications, in that you're competing with potentially thousands of other writers for a single berth, you're receiving (hopefully) some benefit in the form of either monetary gain or name recognition, and you're putting out only your best work (this should go without saying, but it always seems to need repeating).
That said, writing contests are so prevalent these days, especially with the growing number of e-publications, that landing on the "Pro" side of things is actually pretty easy. The way I look at it is this: like with publishing, the key is in doing the work to find a model that fits your writing, rather than changing your writing to fit a model.
Just what do I mean by that? Well, let's say you have a competition like Parsec's Science Fiction & Fantasy Short Contest. This is a SF&F short fiction contest that requires submissions adhere to a theme specified by the organizers. The pitfall in this situation is to try to craft a story that you don't have a genuine stake in, merely because the contest calls for a specific aspect. It can make your writing ring very hollow if you pursue a topic you aren't wholly invested in.
You also, unfortunately, have to take into consideration the possibility that you will (shudder) lose. If you've spent a large amount of time on a piece you really don't even like, and it's tailored to fit a very narrow, unusual theme or guideline, it's highly unlikely you're going to be able to place that story anywhere else. Publishers also have this habit of, well, talking, and that means they know when there's a specialist anthology or contest out there. They can spot a custom-made piece a mile away, and they might not look too kindly on being given the "slim pickings" of a piece that didn't win a competition.
Let's play devil's advocate a moment, though, and remind ourselves that writing is an individual process. You alone know best what you like and don't like, and you alone know what best will make you grow as a writer. If that means writing outside your comfort zone on a vampire lesbian steampunk poem, then go to it. Just remember the possible pitfalls.
Setting aside themes and submission requirements, the other thing to think about it Fees and Rewards. Here's my thought on fees: don't submit. For every competition that charges money there are at least three others that don't, and frankly the idea of paying someone to judge my writing never sits well with me (that's what my editor friends are for - right guys?). Yes, many professional and well-renowned competitions charge a modest entry fee that is not wholly unreasonable, but it's hard not to look at this and see it driving off writers who simply can't afford it. I had also mentioned scams. Although fairly rare, from time to time it does happen where competitions pop up that, in addition to charging entry fees, will also seize a writer's work for later publication - with no royalties or recognition for the writer. Worse yet, they may even pay out no rewards, or very small ones, while keeping the collected entry fees for themselves. If it sounds paranoid, well...tragically it's not. The SFWA keeps a record of these kinds of scams on a section called Writer Beware. There are other resources for tracking these problem publishers and contest scammers; just hunt around a bit on the internet and you should be able to find some community consensus.
In terms of reward, while money is plentiful and wonderful in several competitions, you should also be thinking about publicity gains (or losses). It is unquestionable that the most important part of winning a writing competition is the increased renown and name recognition that comes with it. Money can give you the space to write more, but name recognition will give you the ability to publish more. With that in mind, think about the kind of writer you want to be. If it's a situation where you just have this one really great, fantastic idea, then fire at will. But if you're looking at a long-term goal of publishing in a specific area or for a specific audience, you might want to think about entering contests that are more in line with your genre's crowd.
The bottom line is this: contests, like publishers, are your responsibility to research. You have to be prepared to read up on submission requirements, contest histories, and even forum discussions and message boards. You have to decide for yourself which information is valuable, which is bunk. You have to find the best way to get your work out there.
So at the end of the day, is it worth the stress and headaches? If you're at all serious about writing, you already know the answer: absolutely, unquestionably, wholeheartedly.
I've had several conversations with peers, profs and professionals about the merits and flaws of writing contests. The most basic distillation of the pros and cons can be broken down like this:
Pros
- Name recognition
- Award money often exceeding that from a regular publication
- A deadline to work towards
- Professional peer review
Cons
- Entry fees
- Possible scams, though rare, can occur
- Narrowing your work to fit a guideline
It also bears mentioning that writing contests, in many ways, are the same as professional publications, in that you're competing with potentially thousands of other writers for a single berth, you're receiving (hopefully) some benefit in the form of either monetary gain or name recognition, and you're putting out only your best work (this should go without saying, but it always seems to need repeating).
Elwyn / Elwynsattic via Compfight cc |
That said, writing contests are so prevalent these days, especially with the growing number of e-publications, that landing on the "Pro" side of things is actually pretty easy. The way I look at it is this: like with publishing, the key is in doing the work to find a model that fits your writing, rather than changing your writing to fit a model.
Just what do I mean by that? Well, let's say you have a competition like Parsec's Science Fiction & Fantasy Short Contest. This is a SF&F short fiction contest that requires submissions adhere to a theme specified by the organizers. The pitfall in this situation is to try to craft a story that you don't have a genuine stake in, merely because the contest calls for a specific aspect. It can make your writing ring very hollow if you pursue a topic you aren't wholly invested in.
You also, unfortunately, have to take into consideration the possibility that you will (shudder) lose. If you've spent a large amount of time on a piece you really don't even like, and it's tailored to fit a very narrow, unusual theme or guideline, it's highly unlikely you're going to be able to place that story anywhere else. Publishers also have this habit of, well, talking, and that means they know when there's a specialist anthology or contest out there. They can spot a custom-made piece a mile away, and they might not look too kindly on being given the "slim pickings" of a piece that didn't win a competition.
Let's play devil's advocate a moment, though, and remind ourselves that writing is an individual process. You alone know best what you like and don't like, and you alone know what best will make you grow as a writer. If that means writing outside your comfort zone on a vampire lesbian steampunk poem, then go to it. Just remember the possible pitfalls.
heart_of_stone22 via Compfight cc |
Setting aside themes and submission requirements, the other thing to think about it Fees and Rewards. Here's my thought on fees: don't submit. For every competition that charges money there are at least three others that don't, and frankly the idea of paying someone to judge my writing never sits well with me (that's what my editor friends are for - right guys?). Yes, many professional and well-renowned competitions charge a modest entry fee that is not wholly unreasonable, but it's hard not to look at this and see it driving off writers who simply can't afford it. I had also mentioned scams. Although fairly rare, from time to time it does happen where competitions pop up that, in addition to charging entry fees, will also seize a writer's work for later publication - with no royalties or recognition for the writer. Worse yet, they may even pay out no rewards, or very small ones, while keeping the collected entry fees for themselves. If it sounds paranoid, well...tragically it's not. The SFWA keeps a record of these kinds of scams on a section called Writer Beware. There are other resources for tracking these problem publishers and contest scammers; just hunt around a bit on the internet and you should be able to find some community consensus.
In terms of reward, while money is plentiful and wonderful in several competitions, you should also be thinking about publicity gains (or losses). It is unquestionable that the most important part of winning a writing competition is the increased renown and name recognition that comes with it. Money can give you the space to write more, but name recognition will give you the ability to publish more. With that in mind, think about the kind of writer you want to be. If it's a situation where you just have this one really great, fantastic idea, then fire at will. But if you're looking at a long-term goal of publishing in a specific area or for a specific audience, you might want to think about entering contests that are more in line with your genre's crowd.
The bottom line is this: contests, like publishers, are your responsibility to research. You have to be prepared to read up on submission requirements, contest histories, and even forum discussions and message boards. You have to decide for yourself which information is valuable, which is bunk. You have to find the best way to get your work out there.
So at the end of the day, is it worth the stress and headaches? If you're at all serious about writing, you already know the answer: absolutely, unquestionably, wholeheartedly.
Love is the key via Compfight cc |
Irrational Games is dead. Long live Irrational Games!
Yes, in the world of gaming, we are bidding farewell to the people who brought us Big Daddies, Little Sisters, and all the other quasi-steampunk nightmare relatives we never knew we were missing. Weep not for Rapture, however, for as the article points out, though artists come and go, franchises are forever.
Yes, in the world of gaming, we are bidding farewell to the people who brought us Big Daddies, Little Sisters, and all the other quasi-steampunk nightmare relatives we never knew we were missing. Weep not for Rapture, however, for as the article points out, though artists come and go, franchises are forever.
By InSapphoWeTrust from Los Angeles, California, USA (WonderCon 2012Uploaded by russavia) [CC-BY-SA-2.0], via Wikimedia Commons |
...and ever, and ever, and ever, and...
In grimmer news, the plague of rats in Britain has escalated to a plague of rabbits in Japan. Though considerably more adorable and fluffy in nature, a plague is a plague is a plague, and one can't help but wonder if the natural progression of this apocalypse cycle will lead to larger and even more snuggly forms of doom.
loop_oh via Compfight cc |
They sleep all day to save their strength for the ultimate onslaught.
Following on the heels of a petition to stop the SFWA from allowing such dangerous characters as "womenfolk" the platform for unseemly activities like writing, the proud defenders of first amendment rights have taken their campaign to the next level: forum posts. Yes, no less than the associate director of contracts at one of the oldest independent publishers in the world bemoaned renowned Hugo winner Mary Robinette Kowel having the nerve to jump on the "bandwagon" of feminism, as though equality is a lackadaisical farce that old white men simply have to ride out before a return to the good ol' days of private smoking rooms and wife-beating.
When inevitably called out on his bullshit, Sean Fodera and his fellow icebergs proclaimed themselves victims of a misunderstanding, posting on the forum that their quotes were being taken out of context. Truly, a great injustice has been committed.
Here, in its entirety, is Fodera's greatest post:
“It just occurred to me that [Mary Robinette Kowel] seems to be deeply involved in this whole anti-sexism matter. I remember seeing her posing with Hines and Scalzi on one of their very scary cover parodies, and I know she chimed in with a snipe at the petition signers on the Radish thread. I find it very funny and ironic that she would jump on this bandwagon. For a long time, her website featured an array of photos of her in a diaphanous white outfit, posing on a beach. No metal bikinis or such, but they were not innocuous writer headshots either. One of them, with her recumbent on the sand with legs exposed, made her somewhat attractive. I also recall she’s fond of wearing tight-fitting gowns and plunging necklines when she attends cons and award ceremonies. I’ll have to add “phony” to “incompetent” and “arrogant” in the mental tags I’ve assigned her.”
ALSO, WHY IS A WOMAN TALKING?
Ok, I added that last part. Still though, I'm curious to know in what precise context this post, which accuses a woman of being a phony feminist for having had the nerve to wear plunging necklines, is somehow heroic. Tell me, Fodera, how exactly DO you come out on top in this situation?
“It just occurred to me that [Mary Robinette Kowel] seems to be deeply involved in this whole anti-sexism matter. I remember seeing her posing with Hines and Scalzi on one of their very scary cover parodies, and I know she chimed in with a snipe at the petition signers on the Radish thread. I find it very funny and ironic that she would jump on this bandwagon. For a long time, her website featured an array of photos of her in a diaphanous white outfit, posing on a beach. No metal bikinis or such, but they were not innocuous writer headshots either. One of them, with her recumbent on the sand with legs exposed, made her somewhat attractive. I also recall she’s fond of wearing tight-fitting gowns and plunging necklines when she attends cons and award ceremonies. I’ll have to add “phony” to “incompetent” and “arrogant” in the mental tags I’ve assigned her.”
ALSO, WHY IS A WOMAN TALKING?
Ok, I added that last part. Still though, I'm curious to know in what precise context this post, which accuses a woman of being a phony feminist for having had the nerve to wear plunging necklines, is somehow heroic. Tell me, Fodera, how exactly DO you come out on top in this situation?
koadmunkee via Compfight cc |
Ah. I see. Keep the dream alive.
Ah, Valentine's Day. Boon of florists. Friend to chocolatiers. Reminder of all that is single in the world. Truly, a day where romance is in full bloom, as wife embraces husband, child embraces dog, clown embraces shriner, and all is love and forgiveness and understanding.
I can think of no better time to talk about rejection. For what is great love without great heartbreak?
Yes, we have all dealt with rejection in one form or another: in courtship, in careers, and - for those of us who have been paying attention to what I do - in writing.
I can think of no better time to talk about rejection. For what is great love without great heartbreak?
Yes, we have all dealt with rejection in one form or another: in courtship, in careers, and - for those of us who have been paying attention to what I do - in writing.
Bargain Betty via Compfight cc |
I wish I could say with absolute certainty that the hand
in this picture is attached to a still-living person.
For those who haven't had a piece of their writing rejected, I feel like today presents a rare opportunity to illustrate the sensation. Imagine, if you will, finally working up the courage to ask out that wonderful person you've always liked from a great distance. You didn't quite know how to go about it, but just like that, the perfect words have sprung to mind and you're determined. You set out to find them. Maybe you have their phone number, maybe you try to bump into them at work or school, or maybe you act like the depraved stalker you secretly are and you show up unannounced at their house (yes, PERFECT).
And then they shoot you down. They shoot you down so hard your ancestors reincarnate as zombies just to have their heads blown off by the shoot-down you just received. Your heart, such as it is, shrivels up to a prune and shatters from the sheer icy shellacking it has suffered.
And then they shoot you down. They shoot you down so hard your ancestors reincarnate as zombies just to have their heads blown off by the shoot-down you just received. Your heart, such as it is, shrivels up to a prune and shatters from the sheer icy shellacking it has suffered.
Now repeat this process ten, twenty, infinity times. You are now a writer.
Domk via Compfight cc |
Y...yay?
Still, just like romance, there are exceptions to the rule. Those who live in a special, secluded circle of blessed warmth. You know them. You see them. The high school sweethearts. The "love at first sight" couple. The writers who somehow sell a story immediately.
These tips are for the rest of us:
Handling Rejection
1. Do Not Pursue
So you've received your rejection letter. Like grief and most ill-fated relationships, there is always one immediate reaction: denial. It can take on many forms: flat-out refusal to believe the situation at hand, powerful hallucinations, or, as is often the unfortunate case from many an amateur writer, an attempt to contradict the editor.
Many of you will be tempted to do this. All of you will fail. A rejection is not an invitation for a conversation, let alone a negotiation, and any communications that follow a form rejection will be charitably met with silence and reasonably with threats. Continue at your own peril.
2. Your Work is Not Worthless
The next most immediate reaction is to believe what you have just been told: your work is no good, does not fit our requirements, is offensive to Mormon Dwarves, etc. etc. Well, at this point we must bust out the plethora of platitudes that exist to soothe all wounds sustained in a bad breakup. There are indeed plenty of fish in the sea. There are plenty of editors who will like your work and who will dislike your work. True, you have literally no way of knowing how your piece will be received. After all, the editor could be trying for a specific theme, or maybe they just hate certain plot gimmicks, or maybe their damn car wouldn't start and their coffee spilled on their lap and YOU HAVE PAiD THE PRICE. Like dating, you have to take chances, meet new people, and try to find the one. But that's the fun of it.
Jonno Witts via Compfight cc |
Pictured: Fun
3. Your Work Is Not (Necessarily) Worthless
OK, so now that we've soothed your wounds, let's look at what the editor actually said, shall we?
...
Oh dear.
Oh my.
Oh, that's just...vile. Isn't that vile? They didn't need to go that far.
Oh my.
Oh, that's just...vile. Isn't that vile? They didn't need to go that far.
So why are they being so harsh? What has set them off? Or maybe they focussed on some aspect that, in your view, is insignificant.
This is a hard question to ask, and a risky one to ponder: why did they feel that way?
Yes, on occasion even the angriest of rejection letters can hold remarkable insight into your work that you never considered. When an editor provides ANY kind of feedback with a rejection, be it good or bad, you have to weigh that in your writing. How you weight it must of course be proportional to the value you place on your own work vs. the value you place on the editor's opinion. As I cannot determine that ratio for you, I suggest you now beat your head on your desk in frustration.
slworking2 via Compfight cc |
Good...good...
4. Accept Your Fate
So now that we've established that writing is a horrific, ghoulish process of eternal prom date nightmare scenarios, you must ask yourself, and then answer this question:
Is it worth it?
If you answered yes, HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY! You might have what it takes to handle writing rejection.
If you answered yes, HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY! You might have what it takes to handle writing rejection.
You might also have brain damage.
...sorry for the repeated head-desk-ing.
OK, let's get a couple of things out of the way before we launch right into it, shall we?
1) No, there was no post on Monday. My digital camera, being older than iPhones, kicked the bucket (and yes, this is also an incidental explanation for why the pictures are sometimes awful in resolution). As such, I'm not able to photograph my minis, and this kind of defeats the whole purpose of Model Mondays, at least for the time being.
2) Yes, this post is going up ridiculously late on Wednesday. Aside from my camera dying, this has also been a...how can I put this? A trying week. I apologize to my 10 regular readers. Hopefully it won't happen again (it will definitely happen again).
There. That's out of the way. I feel better now.
So let's get on with this week's Rundown, shall we?
At the top of the list of stories, it should come as a surprise to absolutely no one that Rob Ford finally shrugged off the last tiny shreds of his human skin, revealing that - yes, indeed - he is, in fact, the shambling, homophobic, repugnant shoggoth we all thought he was.
1) No, there was no post on Monday. My digital camera, being older than iPhones, kicked the bucket (and yes, this is also an incidental explanation for why the pictures are sometimes awful in resolution). As such, I'm not able to photograph my minis, and this kind of defeats the whole purpose of Model Mondays, at least for the time being.
2) Yes, this post is going up ridiculously late on Wednesday. Aside from my camera dying, this has also been a...how can I put this? A trying week. I apologize to my 10 regular readers. Hopefully it won't happen again (it will definitely happen again).
There. That's out of the way. I feel better now.
So let's get on with this week's Rundown, shall we?
At the top of the list of stories, it should come as a surprise to absolutely no one that Rob Ford finally shrugged off the last tiny shreds of his human skin, revealing that - yes, indeed - he is, in fact, the shambling, homophobic, repugnant shoggoth we all thought he was.
Via Wikimedia Commons |
All shoggoths are homophobes, though not all homophobes are shoggoths.
Yes, in a move meant to galvanize the worst parts of what can only charitably be called humanity, his worship decided now was the time to beat the war drum against that most feared demographic of civilization: Teh Gayz (that's LGBT peoples, if you're not a tool). Responding to the appearance of a Pride Flag on City Hall's courtesy pole, Rob Ford - in defiance of logic, common sense, and basic decency - put on a cheap imitation of Ronald Reagan and demanded that we tear down this flag. His reasoning fabricated bullshit for this action was that the only flag flying at city hall should be the Canadian Maple Leaf. As numerous sources were quick to point out, aside from him lacking the authority to make such a request, there are in fact no less than 3 Canadian flags on poles at city hall at all times. Not satisfied with this explanation, Ford proceeded to tape a Canadian flag to the window of his office in a show of protest. Because he had to find a fresh, new way to defile our country's status and Justin Bieber had already cornered the market on meeting the Prime Minister in overalls.
Sadly, a gradual slide into knuckle-dragging regression seems to be the name of the game this week, as even the enlightened field of science fiction writers fell prey to the whimsy of the blitheringly backward and stupid. I speak of a petition that circulated amongst the vaunted members of the Science Fiction Writers of America, the content of which centred on holding back the awesome threat of a *shock, horror* RESPECT FOR WOMEN.
emilybean via Compfight cc |
If you support feminism, you're dooming pudding. Think about that.
Now, it doesn't take a lot of critical analysis to quickly shred Mr. David Truesdale's arguments to the ill-conceived mess of poorly disguised misogyny that they are, but the real icing on this shit cake? HE'S NOT EVEN A MEMBER OF THE SFWA. Let's reiterate: Mr. Truesdale put a petition to a private organization, imploring them to not change their private rules on their private publication. An organization he has no part in. And we're supposed to feel that he's having his first amendment rights violated.
Let me apologize now to everyone for the pain you now feel. I never thought it would come to this either.
Yes I did. I did the moment I saw the Candy Crush Saga story from the week before. I knew. I KNEW it would come to this.
Yes I did. I did the moment I saw the Candy Crush Saga story from the week before. I knew. I KNEW it would come to this.
By this, I mean, well...this.
Look, I get it. Big businesses will always murder small ones. That's something I've just come to accept as my wretched existence as a filthy, filthy capitalist.
nomm de photo via Compfight cc |
This Valentine's Day, remember your one true love.
But seriously though, this is becoming so laughably, cartoonishly evil, that I'm beginning to suspect that King, the makers of the aforementioned Dessert Smash Epic, are either a real-life Pinky and the Brain tribute gone wrong, or they're some kind of mischievous breed of gnome, trying to teach humanity the value of friendship. By giving us someone we can all agree to hate.
Still, before we go thinking that it's all bad news, I think everyone should know that at least one awesome thing happened this week: someone made a mod in Civilization 5 that lets you play as the country in Papers, Please.
What? You gotta take what they give you.
Today I thought it would be productive and useful to talk a little bit about tracking submissions. As a writer still at the beginning of what will hopefully turn into something resembling a career, I've quickly realized the critical importance of monitoring what-piece-has-gone-where.
I've read horror stories about beginning writers who started out thinking that they could simply trust these matters to memory, and have gotten into embarrassing (or even worse, legally problematic) situations with publishers. At first it seems like something that can be left alone; after all, you might only have one or two pieces out there, and have only submitted them to one or two markets. Quickly though, as you write more and more, and put work out into the world, I guarantee you will get lost in contracts, rewrite requests, rejections and on and on.
So, how do you track submissions? Well, I can naturally only speak to how I do it, but the bottom line is that you'll have to determine for yourself how best to track your work based on how you write. I know that's obtuse, but for what it's worth, here's how I look at it. You want to keep track of:
1. What piece(s) have been submitted
2. Where they were submitted to
3. When they were submitted
4. If they were accepted/rejected/held
To that end, here's a look at how I organize my submissions, in spreadsheet form (click to enlarge):
It's actually pretty simple. I sort it as Publisher by Story, with publishers as rows and Stories as columns. The advantage to plotting it this way is that I can continue to expand the sheet as needed with more stories to the right, and more publishers to the bottom.
Beside a publisher, I might put a link to their site (if I have it) and any notes that are important to me. It's also important, in my opinion, to note genre. I'm not TOO detailed unless the market specifies that it only publishes a narrow subgenre. It's crucial to keep this info because you can really insult a publisher by not being aware of the work they print.
To make this easier to view across, you'll notice that I've put a "Freeze Pane" in place on the left-most column - that's what the heavier black line is. Freeze Panes, in case you don't know, are a function that let you keep a selection of cells in view while you scroll around your spreadsheet. So I can pan right and it looks like this:
So now let's talk about how I color-code this. From these screenshots, you've already seen the Green-Yellow-Red, and you've probably already guessed what those mean: Green for accepted, Yellow for "in progress," red for rejected.
All three are vitally important. If you send a publisher a story they already rejected, God help you. If you send a publisher a story that someone else already published, again, God help you. The third aspect is somewhat more murky.
I've heard a school of thought that beginner writers shouldn't really worry about "simultaneous submissions." But I'm getting ahead of myself. "Simultaneous submissions" are often referenced on a publishers Submission Guidelines page, and most often they're accompanied by the words "WE DO NOT ACCEPT." Yes, publishers really don't like it when you fire a story off to several of them at once. Why? Well, supposing that a publisher really likes your story, and emails you saying they want to publish it. But! You've already agreed to publish with somebody else.
What you've done just now is "burned" the second publisher. Effectively, you've wasted their time and energy. See, publishers often assemble their pieces based on themes, or they try to give an anthology or even an entire season of books a kind of "feel" to them. If you yank your piece abruptly, it's back to the drawing board for them.
Now, going back to what I said about beginner writers: the theory is that the risk of two or more publishers even wanting your work is very, very low. This is not a sleight against your work; it's just that, as well know, writing is a difficult business to break into and it's somewhat unbelievable that any writer starting out will instantly be in demand by multiple markets.
Nevertheless, I don't do it. I think that it's better that a writer assemble a large body of work, and send one story to one publisher at a time. If you have plenty of pieces to go around, eventually you'll hit that match made in Heaven and your work will be accepted. So, that's why I have the third colour: yellow. So I don't send the same story to another place until I turn it red or green.
Often, I'll also put the date I submitted the piece on, like this:
It's important to keep track of this, because publishers often will say in their submission guidelines that you should contact them if you haven't heard back by a certain point. This is to ensure your piece wasn't intercepted by spam, lost in the mail, etc. You have to keep on top of this, because the publisher won't. Why should they? You have to be responsible for you own work.
So that's the basics, but now what about more complex things like reprints or different mediums? In a standard writing contract, you'll see things like "First World Digital Rights," or "First North American Anthology Rights," etc. Setting aside the details of various rights, there are often situations where you'll be able to sell a story to different markets over and over, maybe because the rights reverted to you - the author - after a set time, or because the market you initially sold to only bought for a specific medium.
That's where spreadsheet links come in handy:
As you can see, I put hyperlinks in my spreadsheets where I have digital information available. In this case, I can simply click the link...
And that's really all there is to my method! It's simple, clean, but very, very important. I hope other writers found this useful, and I welcome any other methods or tips anyone has to add!
I've read horror stories about beginning writers who started out thinking that they could simply trust these matters to memory, and have gotten into embarrassing (or even worse, legally problematic) situations with publishers. At first it seems like something that can be left alone; after all, you might only have one or two pieces out there, and have only submitted them to one or two markets. Quickly though, as you write more and more, and put work out into the world, I guarantee you will get lost in contracts, rewrite requests, rejections and on and on.
Helga Weber via Compfight cc |
1. What piece(s) have been submitted
2. Where they were submitted to
3. When they were submitted
4. If they were accepted/rejected/held
To that end, here's a look at how I organize my submissions, in spreadsheet form (click to enlarge):
It's actually pretty simple. I sort it as Publisher by Story, with publishers as rows and Stories as columns. The advantage to plotting it this way is that I can continue to expand the sheet as needed with more stories to the right, and more publishers to the bottom.
Beside a publisher, I might put a link to their site (if I have it) and any notes that are important to me. It's also important, in my opinion, to note genre. I'm not TOO detailed unless the market specifies that it only publishes a narrow subgenre. It's crucial to keep this info because you can really insult a publisher by not being aware of the work they print.
To make this easier to view across, you'll notice that I've put a "Freeze Pane" in place on the left-most column - that's what the heavier black line is. Freeze Panes, in case you don't know, are a function that let you keep a selection of cells in view while you scroll around your spreadsheet. So I can pan right and it looks like this:
So now let's talk about how I color-code this. From these screenshots, you've already seen the Green-Yellow-Red, and you've probably already guessed what those mean: Green for accepted, Yellow for "in progress," red for rejected.
All three are vitally important. If you send a publisher a story they already rejected, God help you. If you send a publisher a story that someone else already published, again, God help you. The third aspect is somewhat more murky.
I've heard a school of thought that beginner writers shouldn't really worry about "simultaneous submissions." But I'm getting ahead of myself. "Simultaneous submissions" are often referenced on a publishers Submission Guidelines page, and most often they're accompanied by the words "WE DO NOT ACCEPT." Yes, publishers really don't like it when you fire a story off to several of them at once. Why? Well, supposing that a publisher really likes your story, and emails you saying they want to publish it. But! You've already agreed to publish with somebody else.
What you've done just now is "burned" the second publisher. Effectively, you've wasted their time and energy. See, publishers often assemble their pieces based on themes, or they try to give an anthology or even an entire season of books a kind of "feel" to them. If you yank your piece abruptly, it's back to the drawing board for them.
Now, going back to what I said about beginner writers: the theory is that the risk of two or more publishers even wanting your work is very, very low. This is not a sleight against your work; it's just that, as well know, writing is a difficult business to break into and it's somewhat unbelievable that any writer starting out will instantly be in demand by multiple markets.
Nevertheless, I don't do it. I think that it's better that a writer assemble a large body of work, and send one story to one publisher at a time. If you have plenty of pieces to go around, eventually you'll hit that match made in Heaven and your work will be accepted. So, that's why I have the third colour: yellow. So I don't send the same story to another place until I turn it red or green.
Often, I'll also put the date I submitted the piece on, like this:
It's important to keep track of this, because publishers often will say in their submission guidelines that you should contact them if you haven't heard back by a certain point. This is to ensure your piece wasn't intercepted by spam, lost in the mail, etc. You have to keep on top of this, because the publisher won't. Why should they? You have to be responsible for you own work.
So that's the basics, but now what about more complex things like reprints or different mediums? In a standard writing contract, you'll see things like "First World Digital Rights," or "First North American Anthology Rights," etc. Setting aside the details of various rights, there are often situations where you'll be able to sell a story to different markets over and over, maybe because the rights reverted to you - the author - after a set time, or because the market you initially sold to only bought for a specific medium.
That's where spreadsheet links come in handy:
As you can see, I put hyperlinks in my spreadsheets where I have digital information available. In this case, I can simply click the link...
...and it takes me straight to the folder I have on my computer that contains the contract information, and any other useful documents (in this example, the cover art that went with the Anthology this piece appeared in). You can link to any location on your computer - PC or Mac - simply by bringing up the information panel on the item you want to link to, and copying and pasting the "address" of the item.
And that's really all there is to my method! It's simple, clean, but very, very important. I hope other writers found this useful, and I welcome any other methods or tips anyone has to add!
Welcome back to the Rundown!
I'm turning back the clocks past the usual cutoff of last week, because holy blap there is just so much to process. Crazy canucks tearing up the streets both in and out of their own country, a game company is trying to copywright a commonly used word, and - oh yeah, going back a little ways - A CANNIBAL. RAT. GHOST. SHIP.
But before we get to the rodent armada, we have to ask a serious question: what the Hell is going on in Canada?
Have we all been out in the cold for too long, shuffling along our ice-encrusted sidewalks like disconsolate penguins? Had a few too many Tim Horton's coffees mixed with spiced rum? Suffered too many hockey pucks to the head? Endured one too many stereotype jokes?
What can possibly explain THIS:
Plus THIS:
On the bright side, people won't be able to call Twilight a "saga" anymore.
I'm turning back the clocks past the usual cutoff of last week, because holy blap there is just so much to process. Crazy canucks tearing up the streets both in and out of their own country, a game company is trying to copywright a commonly used word, and - oh yeah, going back a little ways - A CANNIBAL. RAT. GHOST. SHIP.
But before we get to the rodent armada, we have to ask a serious question: what the Hell is going on in Canada?
Have we all been out in the cold for too long, shuffling along our ice-encrusted sidewalks like disconsolate penguins? Had a few too many Tim Horton's coffees mixed with spiced rum? Suffered too many hockey pucks to the head? Endured one too many stereotype jokes?
What can possibly explain THIS:
Plus THIS:
(equals this?)
Where do you begin? When the largest export of your country is a patchwork of sporadic, unintentional comedy, is it time for you to do a little soul-searching about your national pride? Or is it just time to seriously be considering real estate on an ice flow?
Whatever the reason, we can at least rest assured knowing that no matter how ridiculous these two individuals get, they will never, ever, EVER directly intersect, despite the very best efforts of comedians, pundits and papers to link the two together. I mean, one is a politician and the other is a child pop singer. Those two couldn't possibly end up interacting in a horrible confluence or-
FUCK.
Welp. As with all things in life, it always comes back to the lawyers. I give up.
Speaking of lawyers, do you like words? Do you like using them, perhaps to say things or - dare I say - NAME things? Like, if you were to have a great weekend, might you refer to it as an EPIC? And if you were to, I dunno, write about it, might people like to call that a SAGA?
Via Wikimedia Commons |
Yes, in what will surely be only the latest in a blitheringly stupid copywright claim, the makers of Candy Crush Saga, a highly addictive mobile game, are trying to trademark use of the word "saga." King, the company in question, is concerned that other games utilizing the term would damage Candy Crush's brand. Because nothing says "saga" like another inane recreation of connect three on your iphone. Truly, an epic voyage.
But hey, at least they're not trying to trademark the word "candy" or anything. That'd be CRAZY.
Sigh. With all of the insanity in the news these days, a reasonable person has to ask: what kind of zany rat race are we all living in?
estarezarpadoo via Compfight cc |
No sea rats commenting here, nope!
Yes, in what was undoubtedly the first sign of the coming apocalypse, reports have surfaced of a shipload of vicious vermin heading for the coast of the UK. Crewed only by good intentions and the most persistent and dominant of pests, the murder vessel is sure to terrify and delight as it rapidly overtakes Sharknado at the box office.
But perhaps we are overreacting. Surely the rats couldn't still persist after more than a year at sea? Even if they DID eat each other, why, then eventually their numbers would dwindle, and dwindle, as rat fed on rat, until...
Until...
Only the biggest, meanest, deadliest mother-sucking rat of them all remained, and he would ride atop a throne of bones mounted on the prow of his dreadnought, fire blazing from his eyes, and he would pry open his vicious little jaws and squeak out an apocalyptic dirge that heralds the doom of mankind.
THIS MONSTROUS RAT WILL DESTROY US ALL!!!!
GAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH-
Only the biggest, meanest, deadliest mother-sucking rat of them all remained, and he would ride atop a throne of bones mounted on the prow of his dreadnought, fire blazing from his eyes, and he would pry open his vicious little jaws and squeak out an apocalyptic dirge that heralds the doom of mankind.
THIS MONSTROUS RAT WILL DESTROY US ALL!!!!
GAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH-
Katsushika Hokusai (θι£Ύεζ) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons |
Only a lone swordsman with a mysterious past and nothing to lose can save us now!
It's a simple head-swap with a blob of green stuff on each, but overall I'm pretty happy with the look. I'm starting them up around the idea that these guys are based on Atria, a world that's offhandedly mentioned in the Imperial Guard army book: "The Conquest of Atria IV is halted when Imperial forces are unable to retake the Palace of Hate." Whatever that means.
Personally, I like the idea of a regiment fighting to take back its world. So I thought these guys might wear all-black as a sort of mourning garb, with green berets on display to indicate their dress uniform / lineage. Basically, a very dour, serious lot, with firm formations and hardened vets. As such, a very basic, dark colour scheme seemed suitable to me. Leaving aside the joke that they are now literally wearing about 50 Shades of Grey, I really like the look and feel of them.
Especially mad eye-patch dude here. He's my favourite. Don't tell the others. |
I painted the bases green but didn't finish them because I'm not yet sure if I want to go back for an urban style. I think it would might suit them better, but green bases are the go-to for playable armies, so there you go.
I used the Tank Commander body and head for the Sergeant, and gave him a bolt pistol and an extra shortsword to make him look a little more NCO-ish. I like the peaked cap look for a non-commissioned officer better than for a lieutenant or higher. He's not quite finished yet, on account of me swapping out his hands at the last minute prior to this post.
Somehow this pic looks squished in. He's not really that odd-looking. |
I'm especially happy with the awards hanging off his chest, which are tiny bits I clipped from an Inquisitor model.
I love the look of the bald, grizzled Karskin sergeant, and think it translates well into an officer of this imagined regiment.
Any feedback is welcome!