Here Goes Nothing...

I mentioned in another blog post that I wanted to submit a couple of my short stories to the school's literary magazine. I told my husband, and he wanted to submit some of his as well. So we spent late hours last Friday before our trip to Utah editing and assembling a couple short stories from each of us.

He submitted three, and I submitted two.

The biggest problem is that the deadline was two days ago. We turned them in today. The submissions were ready by last Saturday, but the building that we were supposed to go to turn them in was locked on Saturday, and we were in Utah until yesterday. I hope they don't mind that they're late... especially since no one was in the office again and so my husband had to slip them through the window without explanation for their tardiness.

I honestly don't expect anything to get chosen, because I have a hard time expecting a literary magazine to select fantasy or sci-fi stories... but hey, you never know, right? Here's to hoping!

To Submit or Not To Submit...

...that is truly the question.

I have been told that an aspiring author will have to accept many, many rejections before they are published. Hundreds of rejections. I'm not looking to have a book published (yet), but I am considering submitting one of my short stories that I wrote for a class last semester to a literary journal on campus.

The only thing is that I'm pretty sure they won't take a fantasy story. They'll accept my submission, but I really doubt I'll be chosen. I'm not saying that to be pessimistic, I'm saying it because the last issue of the journal I saw had essays and a cryptical short story in it, one of those ones that sounds like it was written by Ernest Hemingway or something. While I have nothing against Hemingway (except that I've been scarred by having to read "Old Man and the Sea"), I'm not particularly fond of his stuff.

So since it's a literary journal, I doubt mine will be chosen... but I feel like this is a low-key way to start learning about rejection. (This sounds so depressing!) It's due by April 9, though and I still have a ton of homework and exams to do in the next two weeks. Maybe I'll have my husband look over the short story instead of my prologue, though, and try hard to make the submission....

Prologue Chunk

At long last! Here's a couple of paragraphs from the prologue of my novel.

Please remember that everything here is original work. I did not plagiarize anything and this work is not to be plagiarized either. Constructive criticism is encouraged and almost begged for. This is not a final draft.

*****

                The light that came through the small hole in the wooden door of his cell was cold and grey and unwelcoming. The smell of mold was overpowering, yet almost familiar to him; the feel of the moss that grew between the cracks in the stone floor was almost comforting to his feet. His shoulders ached from the weight of his body, and the shackles that held his arms up over his head had made his arms numb. The trickle of wetness on his back was uncomfortable, but he was powerless to move. They had sapped the last of his strength when they had tied him up and lashed him. Ten strokes with the whip, and they had left him there for an indeterminable amount of time. They might have taken him down shortly after the beating except he had killed one of their leaders, and so he was left to stare at nothing in the dim light from the torches outside the cell, wondering where his father was and how his fellow men were doing… wondering if they would be able to find him… He had been locked down in the dungeon for quite some time, and only recently had developed a desire to punish him- they probably didn’t realize he was the one who had killed their leader. He had no idea how long he’d been there; all he knew was that he was underground somewhere, away from the cycles of day and night and time.

                The heavy wooden door of his cell shuddered and was shoved open. He heard the voices of his captors, their heavy accent and harsh language as they spoke to one another. In they came, two men just a few inches over five feet with tanned, leathery skin from working in the fields and stubborn faces. They stopped once they were through the door, and stood facing each other, clearly arguing with each other and occasionally stabbing a finger in his direction without looking at him. He didn’t feel like caring; his entire body ached with the strain of standing with his arms pulled above his head for hours, and he could feel exhaustion taking over. He stared blankly at in front of him, trying to ignore everything.

                There were faint voices, barely discernible, and the two men by the door looked through to the long stone hallway of the dungeon. One said something, and stepped out into the hall. What truly caught his attention was the thump of the man falling to the ground. The second man called something, and stepped out as well. He looked over and saw an arrow thump into the second man, who dropped to the floor as well, a curdling wail emitting from his throat. The new voices became louder, and he realized they were familiar. He pulled against the chains, making them clank, using the last of his strength to struggle for a good few minutes, ignoring the searing pain in his ribs and his arms. More yells came, the guttural yells from his captors mingled with the voices he was beginning to recognize. There were a few long moments of obvious battle-metal against metal, yells and cries- and then someone came through the door again. He stood very still, his heart sinking as the newcomer stood and raised his spiked club, white teeth flashing against his tanned hide, a terrible smile that preceded a killing…

                And then the man was on his face, and another man was standing behind him, bloody sword in hand.

Past the Writing Pothole

I've really really really wanted to get past the rut I'm in with writing. Ever since the beginning of the year, it's like my creative brain shut off. I haven't had any ideas, I haven't been able to think about my characters, nothing. Even the new story I tried starting didn't really take off exactly like I thought it would. I'm still excited about both, but I can't seem to get anywhere! It's been so depressing...

And it doesn't help that I'm smothered in schoolwork. I'm currently taking 18 credits, and it's no fun at all. We're delving deep into the music, however, which is exciting and better than gen-eds. I'm super excited for this semester to end so I can take my next creative writing class! But while I used to squeeze in a sentence or two between the occasional passing period, because I haven't had any ideas it leaves me staring at the words I used to have wondering what I could possibly come up with to get going again.

Finally, however, at the beginning of the week, I found my mind wandering. I found my characters speaking in my head again, reacting to things, possible things I could use... it was so nice to have that feeling back! I know I sound like such a dork when I say that, but I don't even care. I'm so used to having my mind wander that when it doesn't I feel lost and confused. But I have a few more ideas, and I'm steadily getting closer to something, possibly (hopefully) a different way to try starting my story...

(PS- I know I said I'd try to post another segment of my writing soon, but I keep forgetting because of all my schoolwork... I'll try to get something soon!)

What To Do...

I'm still stuck on what to do for my story. I'm in this really weird position where I want to write something but I don't know what to write... I don't know where to go for the new story. I don't know how to restart my original story. I don't even have any ideas for short stories.

It's a little depressing.

I've started carrying around some published works, however. One of the biggest pieces of advice I was given in my creative writing class last semester was to read, and read, and read and read and read and read and don't ever stop reading...

I sinned in high school and stopped reading books for fun because I would read books instead of doing my homework, or read books instead of sleep at night, etc... so in order to successfully complete my AP English course my senior year in high school, I stopped reading books for fun. That was over three years ago! 

So I've delved into the list of books I've been meaning to read. Right now I'm carrying around "The Sword of Shannara" by Terry Brooks. It's a series (and author) that my mother adores, so I picked a copy up at a used bookstore. I haven't started it yet, but I'm excited. I already have more ideas for my original story just by contemplating the characters in Tolkien's "Lord of the Rings" (although, shamefully, I haven't read the books... they're on the list, don't worry...)

I'll try to post another story segment soon. Until then... I'll be reading and trying to figure out how to start my novel again!

Time to Face the Music

After some serious consideration, I've decided to re-write the entire beginning of my novel.

This could be anywhere from re-writing a chapter to re-writing everything I have right now- that's six chapters. I'm going to keep my prologue, and that's the only sure thing I have.

It's a little depressing... especially since this isn't the first time, (or the second, or the third, or the sixth, or the eighth...) and especially, especially since I don't have a clue how to re-write it. I've got nothing. No idea.

I'm horrible at starting any form of writing- essays, papers, short stories, novels, I'm horrible at starting all of them. That's probably why I've restarted this novel so many times.

This could definitely take a while. I need to go find some inspiration.

Inspiration

Since I have a huge imagination, I can be easily inspired. Pictures, music, movies- they're great sources of inspiration. I have a station on Pandora labeled "Hans Zimmer (composer)" and those movie soundtracks appeal to me so much (probably because I also dream that I might have the capacity to someday write my own) and get my creative juices flowing.

As you can imagine, movies appeal largely to my imagination. There are some movies that I can't see in theaters because my imagination puts me in that scene and I freak out. (By the way, horror movies are out of the question. Period.) But this last Friday my husband and I invited over a few friends and we finally watched the last movie of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. (Yes, I'm a loser and it took me this long to see the whole thing.)

My creative mind has been on overdrive ever since. Watching something like that after going through my creative writing class has been incredible. I make more connections, I have more ideas, I have directions I think might enhance my story... Remember I said that I stepped away from my first story because I was forcing myself to write and it wasn't working? I'm slowly beginning to piece it together, to start to figure out what the main characters need to undergo to make things happen for them. It's incredible. Exhilarating. I love it.

And I've been stuck in school. My homework still isn't done. All I want to do is write, or try and add things to my story that I think would help.

It's going to be a long semester. Maybe I'll try getting through my homework quickly so I can finally write again...