AND THEN THIS HAPPENED

So I'm going to preface this post by saying: I got a smart phone at the worse possible time in my life.

I finished the final draft of my book, We, the Risen, in May. I wrote a query, a synopsis and then I fired it out into the universe. The following two months were two of the hardest months of my life. I had nightmares (one which involved me being responsible for the death of an agent because my book was that bad), could not sleep and avoided work duties in favor of reloading my email.

I got a lot of really positive responses - and then one morning I woke up and there was an email that basically changed my world and also made me rip my hair out. An agent hadn't finished the book, but she loved it so far, and wanted to know who else it was out with.She'd be finished soon, she said, but to please let her know if anything changes in terms of my representation status.

To be honest, I hadn't  thought I would hear back from this agent. She'd contacted me first two years ago about a novel that has, since then, been trunked. We kept in touch, and when I finished We, the Risen I sent it off to her, expecting to wait a very long time before I ever heard back.

Instead, a few days later I got the email - 'I'd love to set up a time to talk with you.'

Commence more hair ripping.

If I had gotten this email a year ago I would have jumped straight into 'this is an offer of representation'. But I'd heard enough to know that sometimes agents called to give you a revise and resubmit, or to (God forbid) offer you a very personal rejection. And to top it off, in my fear/euphoria/need to vomit I'd scheduled the phone call for five days later. I had a lot of nightmares. And did a lot of stalking. And also whined an incredible amount to all my wonderful friends. (Seriously, guys, thank you so so so much for listening to me belly ache about everything for the past two months.) The fifteen minutes before the call I think I nearly threw up twice, and hand my hands shook so much I could barely keep a grip on my phone.

But the call went wonderfully. Not only did she offer representation, she had such wonderful things to say about We, the Risen and understood my vision. By the end of the conversation, I knew. And I'm pretty sure in the blur that that afternoon was, that I said that.

The next day I sent her an email, and a few hours later I had a contract.

I am very very very very pleased and excited to say that I am now represented by Ammi-Joan Paquette of the Erin Murphy Literary Agency.

THINGS I HAVE LEARNED

...over the past few days.

1. Porn is not suitable for workshop. Especially not in the first person. How am I supposed to look at you?
2. Once you get started on fanfiction it is like a fraking addiction. You can't stop. You know you have to or you'll fail all your classes, but you can't. You. Just. Can't.
3. Characters all need to have a purpose. Alas, convenience does not qualify as a purpose.
4. My professor is really, in fact, a fraking psycho. I'm a little fearful and resentful. Also, perhaps plotting rebellion.
5. I'm incredibly protective of my things: namely, coffee. If you use it and finish it, you must replace it people. I AM NOT A COFFEE MONEY MAKING MACHINE, GUYS. I'M JUST NOT.

One day, I'll get back to real posting. As it is, please make do with the lists I come up with until the craziness that is my life stops being so crazy. Also, contest winners, I haven't forgotten about you! Things will be mailed out in short order, I promise. As soon as I get a moment to actually mail them out. 

HOW TO BALANCE

...a giant workload.

1. Pull all nighters.
2. When you pull these all nighters, call them nuit blanche. It will make you feel better.
3. Stock up on coffee. And tea. And creamer. Also: chocolate, sugar, pancakes and an assortment of unhealthy food.
4. Have an awesome roommate/BFFL combination like @abundantchaos.
5. Have Russell Crowe kill people in the background and look all manly. Even when he doesn't talk.
6. Have your mom and little sisters visit you, and make fun of you. It will put things into perspective.
7. Giggle over nonsense.
8. Remember, there is no such thing as balance. You will fail inevitably. But realize that you won't stop climbing the hill anyway.
9. Also, you might want to buy a plot in a cemetery. Just in case.
10. Remember to breathe. This is only a phase in your life. Better things come later and to those who wait.

MANAGING TIME YOU DON'T HAVE

You are probably  a high school student, or a college student, or a parent, full time worker, a professional, a writer. You have a life. If you had it your way, you wouldn't but it's not your way. You don't have the necessary 40 hours a day, only 24. Rest assured. I have come up with a few helpful ways to stretch those hours to their limits.

1. Coffee. Coffee. If you do not have a coffee maker go and buy one. Starbucks? Caribou Coffee? These are weak substitutes for the lovely brew you could be making at home. I have a small one. I am going to get a big one. And I also have a CABINET OF CAFFEINE. This cabinet, you stock it with creamers, and coffee mugs, and different flavors of coffee (my favorite is French Roast). And then you bask in the glory of the thing that is your caffeine high.
2. Sleep. Sleep is overrated. You don't really need it. What you need is to budget it. You need 8-10 hours if you want to be a fully functional, awake, coherent human being. Drop that to 6 if you want to just be an awake human. Drop to 4 if you want to be awake. Drop to 2 if you plan on coasting through your day barely alive. 
3. Social life. You don't have one. Not anymore. You already have to write, work, study, read, cook, and clean. YOU DON'T HAVE TIME FOR PEOPLE. You don't have time to laugh or drink or go out and dance with that really cute boy. Just forget about that social life. Forever.
4. Spare minutes. You need them. You need them so much. Any downtime is not downtime it is time to get work done. It is time to outline that scene, or read that chapter, or skim those notes. If you think you have downtime, you are lying to yourself. You only have more time to get more done.
5. Multitask. This is a skill that will serve you well. Cooking? Pull out that book and read. Writing? Open up twitter and connect. Drafting that essay? Talk to your friends and listen to music. ALL AT THE SAME TIME.

*This is not actual advice. It's the way I choose to live my sad, unhappy life. Follow at your own peril.

A SAFE PLACE

I meant to write a post yesterday, and in fact, it is sitting, half finished, in my blogger posts section thing. Then my day went from bad (I passed out on the couch with Paradise Regained on my lap at 4am) to worse (what this post will be about).

When I first started at my university, I planned on taking creative writing classes. I think they're useful for polishing craft and learning about the way that other people both produce work and then revise it. But, I also knew (or thought I knew) that I would hate them. I expected pretentious professors, equally pretentious student and to not be taken seriously as a writer (because the only thing that I can ever turn out or enjoy turning out is speculative fiction).

I didn't take my first creative writing class (outside of high school, where I had an amazing experience with Mr. Cunningham) until the fall of my sophomore year. I was terrified but new that if I wanted to graduate with a creative writing degree or take independent study my junior and senior year, I would have to do it. I would have to  deal with the demoralization.

Thank God, I didn't.

My first professor was amazing. She was a former editor for Playboy; she was vibrant, welcoming, and supportive. Before I'd ever told her I wanted to apply for the Creative Writing major, she told me that I should. When I expressed fear before my first workshop experience, she told me that I'd be fine, that the students were supportive, that even if they weren't, she would be. I came out of that class thinking, "I'm so blessed that my school is different" and happily applied for the following creative writing course. My experience in that class was even better. The focus was fiction writing (as opposed to my first class which was fiction, creative non-fiction and poetry) so I got to write a lot of what I wanted, when I wanted, how I wanted. My classmates were amazing, my professor was amazing, and my experience went beyond anything that I could have imagined. And when this professor recommended who to take for the sequential course, I happily took her recommendation.

I wish I hadn't.

The backbone of any creative writing class is the workshop. You submit your work to your classmates and they dissect it. They tell you what they liked, what worked, what they didn't like and what didn't work. For the workshop to work, the writer has to trust that her or his critics are honest and truthful and know what they're talking about. And the critics have to work to give the writer valuable feedback.

The professor has minimal involvement in this process. Their job is to monitor the discussion and make sure that it is helpful, to step in when they feel the students have gone off course, and to elaborate on points that they think are important. If a workshop is going well, you should never hear the professors voice: they already know what to do - it's the students' opportunity to learn how to give critique and take critique.  

My current professor is one in an amazing department at my university. But she makes me question how she could have been teaching creative writing for ten years. The workshop, which I considered a safe and often times empowering enviroment, is now - in her class - something I don't want any part in. Not only does she dominate the discussion, thereby removing the students' ability to learn, but she does it rudely. She interrupts students making points, and when she does make points, they are usually unrelated to the discussion. Yesterday, she pantomimed a passage from the work we were workshopping, and ranted for more than five minutes about how horrible, terrible and poorly written it was. In front of the writer. In front of the entire class. I was too mortified to look at the writer.

This cannot happen.

A workshop is supposed to be a safe environment where you can submit work and hope to improve. It's not an opportunity to rant on how much you hate a style. And it can be effective in deterring a person from writing or taking your criticisms seriously when you do what the professor did. Now, I don't want to submit to the class. I don't want to be in this class at all. And if I didn't need it to qualify for independent study in the spring, I would drop it right now.

If you'd like, feel free to share your horror stories and your good stories about creative writing professors. Who's shaped you as a writer and who has done the opposite?

The twitter giveaway is still going! I'll be giving away two books today since I forgot about it yesterday. Look forward to it! :) And have a great week!

RETURN OF THE DUCKS

I told all of you! All of you! The ducks are watching! And I have proof! (Also, my really good friend put this up to freak the crap out of me.) 

IN WHICH I TAKE OVER THE WORLD (APPARENTLY)

So, my very good friend and BFFL, Asma, had a dream about me last night. In which I take over the world. And Hasan is my sidekick. Please read. And see what my daily life antics come to. And what my future (and yours) may hold. 

In which I take over the world and have a sidekick: 

In which said sidekick is miffed and compared to eels: