I loved this site. I may just be fooling myself, but I'd like to think I'll still post here occasionally. But I have moved out of the apartment into my own house.
SusieCStone.com
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Sin Boldly
Last weekend, I was a woman with a goal. And a deadline. The goal was two-fold: get Let Go under 140k words and launch my new website. The deadline was July 1st. If I met the deadline, I was going to take off for the Fourth of July weekend. No writing, no editing, no blogging, no laundry, no drinking... wait, scratch that last one. You get the idea.
Late Sunday evening, I was two minutes away from announcing and launching my website. Then, in a fit of vanity, I launched it right into itself. I forwarded my site to my site. I imagine it was spinning in cyberspace inifinity. Through much technical ignorance and even more stubborness, I kept making it worse. Yes, it's true. When I sin, I sin boldy. It's the only way to go.
Then, I kept sinning. I'm not going to get technical, but lets just say all of my content was deleted in the process. By me. On purpose. Sin boldly.
Through the good grace and kindness of some whipsmart techies, I am back up and running. Without content. And, during a three hour slash fest, I took Let Go down to 139,817 words.
And, I'm taking the weekend off. My goals might not have been completely met, but hey, I sin boldly.
Late Sunday evening, I was two minutes away from announcing and launching my website. Then, in a fit of vanity, I launched it right into itself. I forwarded my site to my site. I imagine it was spinning in cyberspace inifinity. Through much technical ignorance and even more stubborness, I kept making it worse. Yes, it's true. When I sin, I sin boldy. It's the only way to go.
Then, I kept sinning. I'm not going to get technical, but lets just say all of my content was deleted in the process. By me. On purpose. Sin boldly.
Through the good grace and kindness of some whipsmart techies, I am back up and running. Without content. And, during a three hour slash fest, I took Let Go down to 139,817 words.
And, I'm taking the weekend off. My goals might not have been completely met, but hey, I sin boldly.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Back to the Closet
Since returning from conference, I've been editing Let Go. It's very hard for me, because I really want to work on The Eli Project. TEP, as I have come to notate it, is at that point where I can't seem to get it out fast enough. I stand in the backyard, walking Luna Lovegood and I think: Deborah Adams is twenty-seven. A perfect cube, the age of so many who died too young, and so forth. It flows through so hard and fast. My life is surrounded in posties and my notebooks are the ramblings of a madwoman. I know the longer I wait, the easier it will come. But, I am devoted to the editing of Let Go. I have promised myself to have this pass at the manuscript finished before the end of July. That's going to be tough. I haven't even considered we might go away for a week in there somewhere.
Why do I need sleep?
Tomorrow, I'm going to be a good girl. I'm going to check my email and Facebook once, just after dropping Hoot off at daycare, then I'm going to get busy. No TweetDeck, no phone calls. Just me and Let Go. Well, maybe Pandora. And a post it note or two about TEP. And a pot of coffee. Definitely a pot of coffee.
Why do I need sleep?
Tomorrow, I'm going to be a good girl. I'm going to check my email and Facebook once, just after dropping Hoot off at daycare, then I'm going to get busy. No TweetDeck, no phone calls. Just me and Let Go. Well, maybe Pandora. And a post it note or two about TEP. And a pot of coffee. Definitely a pot of coffee.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Further Tales of a Conference Virgin: The Matrix
On Saturday morning, the conference held its Taco Tweetup. After a welcome and overview of the conference by Writers' League of Texas Executive Director Cyndi Hughes, we were turned over to a panel of experts moderated by Rusty Shelton of Shelton Interactive. Topics varied from synopsis and pitch to Facebook and Twitter itself.
I enjoyed the session, but left with only one sentence in my notebook. It was underlined. Three times. "Jack your ass back into the Matrix!"
Which is funny because in 2009, I purposefully jacked my ass part of the way out of the matrix. I was shifting my focus away from being online trying to save a buck to rewriting my book. I spent my precious online time trying to shift from putting the physical book in a customer’s hand to showing them how to get digital content. I found myself trawling tech gurus and searching for a way to keep my day job relevant in the retail world. But, that was trawling, not connecting.
This whole conference is about connecting. How do I hook my readers? How do I keep them connected to my characters? How do I get an agent? How do I build a platform? How do I find people who are in the trenches with me? See, connecting.
I know a few authors came away from the conference saying they needed to stop blogging and concentrate on their writing. In some situations, this is absolutely true. It's a delicate balance to say the least. As I write this post, I have an alarm that I've snoozed three times. My jacked-in part of the day is at an end until later this afternoon. Its no different than juggling the laundry, the family, the work schedule, and my book. It's a struggle to be sure, but what's another chainsaw into the juggling mix?
I had already started back into the matrix before the conference. I retooled the blog (and I will keep retooling it until I'm happy) and dusted off my Twitter account. Sure, there's lots of work to be done, but I'm already used to TweetDeck chirping away on the desktop. And, I've disconnected the computer in the closet for uninterrupted work. But, life is full of dualities, that's what overlaps and gives us lovely shades of gray.
As I sat reworking my notes late Saturday night, I realized that every penny I spent for the entire weekend was justified between the Taco Tweetup and the Back to the Future: Where Social Media Meets Traditional Literary Publicity panel. Sadly, as I had a quick chat with Rusty before the First Pitch session on Saturday night, I wish my CPU had processed it enough to thank him.
I enjoyed the session, but left with only one sentence in my notebook. It was underlined. Three times. "Jack your ass back into the Matrix!"
Which is funny because in 2009, I purposefully jacked my ass part of the way out of the matrix. I was shifting my focus away from being online trying to save a buck to rewriting my book. I spent my precious online time trying to shift from putting the physical book in a customer’s hand to showing them how to get digital content. I found myself trawling tech gurus and searching for a way to keep my day job relevant in the retail world. But, that was trawling, not connecting.
This whole conference is about connecting. How do I hook my readers? How do I keep them connected to my characters? How do I get an agent? How do I build a platform? How do I find people who are in the trenches with me? See, connecting.
I know a few authors came away from the conference saying they needed to stop blogging and concentrate on their writing. In some situations, this is absolutely true. It's a delicate balance to say the least. As I write this post, I have an alarm that I've snoozed three times. My jacked-in part of the day is at an end until later this afternoon. Its no different than juggling the laundry, the family, the work schedule, and my book. It's a struggle to be sure, but what's another chainsaw into the juggling mix?
I had already started back into the matrix before the conference. I retooled the blog (and I will keep retooling it until I'm happy) and dusted off my Twitter account. Sure, there's lots of work to be done, but I'm already used to TweetDeck chirping away on the desktop. And, I've disconnected the computer in the closet for uninterrupted work. But, life is full of dualities, that's what overlaps and gives us lovely shades of gray.
As I sat reworking my notes late Saturday night, I realized that every penny I spent for the entire weekend was justified between the Taco Tweetup and the Back to the Future: Where Social Media Meets Traditional Literary Publicity panel. Sadly, as I had a quick chat with Rusty before the First Pitch session on Saturday night, I wish my CPU had processed it enough to thank him.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Tales of a Conference Virgin
Before I attended the Writers' League of Texas Agents Conference last weekend, I did some research online about what to expect, what to do before I got there, and general tips. I thought I had a decent handle on the thing as I generally have a fear of half-assing anything. Okay, maybe a large freakin' issue with half-assing, but that, alas, is another post for another day.
Here are a few of the things I wish that I had known, or even if I knew them, I shouldn’t have ignored them!
Get there early! It doesn’t matter if you’re staying on site or you live in town. Get there, get the lay of the land, decompress from any traffic, whatever. Use this time to shift from your daily life to focused writer. I underestimated how much time it would take to shift from “Did the boy have a good day?” to “Let me tell you about my novel!”
Look at your name badge. Now, look at the badge on the person handing you your badge. Notice anything different? They probably aren’t the same. They may be bigger or different colors. Use your reception to spot the differences so that you zero in on your targets. And use it to thank the volunteers for all their work. You would not be there without them!
If you’ve done your homework, you’ve studied the tiny photos of the agents. If you’ve mastered the homework, you’ve researched them online. Be prepared for hairstyle changes, new glasses, or missing goatees. Again, this is where name badges become important. If there’s a wagon train circle of attendees anywhere in the room, you can bet there is an agent campfire inside. Get in there and see which one!
Hustle. Assume that every single opportunity is the only opportunity outside of the scheduled consultation. Join that wagon train and listen as you wait your turn! I made a huge error here because I wanted to watch. This was my biggest mistake all weekend! The only other opportunities for me would have been at rude and inappropriate times. Every conference packet tells you not to pitch during agents down time, elevators (it’s just called an elevator pitch,) or if they are juggling a plate of food. You will do more harm than good. Restrooms are a particularly bad choice. Don’t be the woman who finds herself pitching at a urinal. The only thing you will achieve will be urban legend status.
Pack your business cards and keep them on you. I was shocked by how many people didn’t have cards on them. Or, in paranoia land, didn’t want to give me one. It’s called a printer, people. Don’t have one? It’s called Vistaprint. There are plenty of other places, just drop “cheap business cards” into your favorite search engine if you don’t want to venture out to your local business supply store.
Talk. Listen. Repeat. Walk right up, say hello, ask about their book. This is easy to say, but for some people it’s harder to do. Funny how I do it so many times during the day at the bookstore, but it took some practice at the conference. Even if you’re tired, suck it up and go Nike.
And my final tip for opening receptions: You didn’t shell out all that money to be a wallflower!
You know, it might seem as if my opening night reception wasn't successful, but I would be remiss if I didn't say what a great time I had. I was surrounded by so many people in the same boat. I met some wonderful people and made some great friends. So many times we are alone as writers, conferences are all about connections. Your co-workers, friends, and family might say they know what its like to be a writer, but unless they are one, they really don't know. Be greatful for their support, but find someone down in the trenches with you. I love the people in the trenches!
Here are a few of the things I wish that I had known, or even if I knew them, I shouldn’t have ignored them!
Get there early! It doesn’t matter if you’re staying on site or you live in town. Get there, get the lay of the land, decompress from any traffic, whatever. Use this time to shift from your daily life to focused writer. I underestimated how much time it would take to shift from “Did the boy have a good day?” to “Let me tell you about my novel!”
Look at your name badge. Now, look at the badge on the person handing you your badge. Notice anything different? They probably aren’t the same. They may be bigger or different colors. Use your reception to spot the differences so that you zero in on your targets. And use it to thank the volunteers for all their work. You would not be there without them!
If you’ve done your homework, you’ve studied the tiny photos of the agents. If you’ve mastered the homework, you’ve researched them online. Be prepared for hairstyle changes, new glasses, or missing goatees. Again, this is where name badges become important. If there’s a wagon train circle of attendees anywhere in the room, you can bet there is an agent campfire inside. Get in there and see which one!
Hustle. Assume that every single opportunity is the only opportunity outside of the scheduled consultation. Join that wagon train and listen as you wait your turn! I made a huge error here because I wanted to watch. This was my biggest mistake all weekend! The only other opportunities for me would have been at rude and inappropriate times. Every conference packet tells you not to pitch during agents down time, elevators (it’s just called an elevator pitch,) or if they are juggling a plate of food. You will do more harm than good. Restrooms are a particularly bad choice. Don’t be the woman who finds herself pitching at a urinal. The only thing you will achieve will be urban legend status.
Pack your business cards and keep them on you. I was shocked by how many people didn’t have cards on them. Or, in paranoia land, didn’t want to give me one. It’s called a printer, people. Don’t have one? It’s called Vistaprint. There are plenty of other places, just drop “cheap business cards” into your favorite search engine if you don’t want to venture out to your local business supply store.
Talk. Listen. Repeat. Walk right up, say hello, ask about their book. This is easy to say, but for some people it’s harder to do. Funny how I do it so many times during the day at the bookstore, but it took some practice at the conference. Even if you’re tired, suck it up and go Nike.
And my final tip for opening receptions: You didn’t shell out all that money to be a wallflower!
You know, it might seem as if my opening night reception wasn't successful, but I would be remiss if I didn't say what a great time I had. I was surrounded by so many people in the same boat. I met some wonderful people and made some great friends. So many times we are alone as writers, conferences are all about connections. Your co-workers, friends, and family might say they know what its like to be a writer, but unless they are one, they really don't know. Be greatful for their support, but find someone down in the trenches with you. I love the people in the trenches!
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
In the throws!
I've spent the last few days in the throws of preparation for the writing conference this weekend. It's been a lot of fun getting ready, but juggling the chainsaws of prep, work, and family has left me wrung out. In the midst of it all, I discovered a little something something that makes me happy.
The Best Damn Creative Writing Blog will be publishing short fiction every single day in July! How cool is that. With no reading fee and electronic submissions, this is a no brainer. Well, not really. Use that brain to polish up your best short fiction. Start here to get to their submission page!
If you end up getting picked, please let me know. And if you're not submitting, cross some body parts for me! Now, what to send, what to send.... Alas, I shall have to table my personal submission until after this weekend! Good Luck!
The Best Damn Creative Writing Blog will be publishing short fiction every single day in July! How cool is that. With no reading fee and electronic submissions, this is a no brainer. Well, not really. Use that brain to polish up your best short fiction. Start here to get to their submission page!
If you end up getting picked, please let me know. And if you're not submitting, cross some body parts for me! Now, what to send, what to send.... Alas, I shall have to table my personal submission until after this weekend! Good Luck!
Thursday, June 2, 2011
The Blogover
I've been attempting a blogover, a pick-me-up, a little sprucing of the closet, if you will. I have tried out a few new looks, and for now, I shall have to leave it alone. It's just too close to conference to be tinkering with it, and yet, that's why I'm tinkering with it. I shall do my best to leave it as is, and focus on the waxing to-do list and the waning timeline.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
The Other Closet
There is another closet that I write inside, one with far less clothing, but more dust bunnies. The cranial closet.
My cranial closet is big. Strike that. My cranial closet is enormous. Ever read House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski? My cranial closet is a lot like that house: much bigger on the inside than on the outside. There are dark places, light places, hidden stairs that send you plummeting into abysses, and delightful rooms peopled with friends, family, and characters of my own creation. My favorite room contains an upright piano. My id reclines on this piano, looking fabulous in a slinky cocktail frock, drink in hand, doling out the things my filter must stop before they come out of my mouth. I love her. She’s proof that there are no real mind readers. Someone would have mowed me down by now.
Fear carpets the floor in my cranial closet. Thick, lush, sink your toes in it, shag carpet. And it’s loud. Casino loud. Fear of judgment, fear of rejection, fear of the unknown. You name it, there’s a pattern in the weave for it.
The wallpaper is ever changing. Most days, the closet is covered with my insane belief that if you say it, you must do it. The art of dreaming out loud is something I have lost from the walls. Sure, I say things I don’t do. I’m human. But, to say this thing… this writing thing, and not do it. I would never forgive myself. (Yeah, that’s in there too.)
My day career, as I put it, has only added to my closet. Working in books, I am naturally surrounded people who write, want to write, and dream of writing. I do not knock them. It’s just not me. (See above paragraph.) So many of them say they are going to write a book or talk about their book, and nothing comes of it. I don’t know if I could stand it if nothing comes of this.
I venture outside the closet every once in a while. I joined the Writers’ League of Texas. I’ve been forcing myself out at least once a month for the journey to Austin for The Writers’ League 2011 Third Thursday Series. I’ve talked about my book more, dabbling the light with my toes.
At the end of next week, I will be spending three days out of the closet. I’m attending the Writers’ League of Texas Agents Conference at the Hyatt Regency Austin. My id is already packed. I hope there’s a bellhop to carry the piano.
My cranial closet is big. Strike that. My cranial closet is enormous. Ever read House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski? My cranial closet is a lot like that house: much bigger on the inside than on the outside. There are dark places, light places, hidden stairs that send you plummeting into abysses, and delightful rooms peopled with friends, family, and characters of my own creation. My favorite room contains an upright piano. My id reclines on this piano, looking fabulous in a slinky cocktail frock, drink in hand, doling out the things my filter must stop before they come out of my mouth. I love her. She’s proof that there are no real mind readers. Someone would have mowed me down by now.
Fear carpets the floor in my cranial closet. Thick, lush, sink your toes in it, shag carpet. And it’s loud. Casino loud. Fear of judgment, fear of rejection, fear of the unknown. You name it, there’s a pattern in the weave for it.
The wallpaper is ever changing. Most days, the closet is covered with my insane belief that if you say it, you must do it. The art of dreaming out loud is something I have lost from the walls. Sure, I say things I don’t do. I’m human. But, to say this thing… this writing thing, and not do it. I would never forgive myself. (Yeah, that’s in there too.)
My day career, as I put it, has only added to my closet. Working in books, I am naturally surrounded people who write, want to write, and dream of writing. I do not knock them. It’s just not me. (See above paragraph.) So many of them say they are going to write a book or talk about their book, and nothing comes of it. I don’t know if I could stand it if nothing comes of this.
I venture outside the closet every once in a while. I joined the Writers’ League of Texas. I’ve been forcing myself out at least once a month for the journey to Austin for The Writers’ League 2011 Third Thursday Series. I’ve talked about my book more, dabbling the light with my toes.
At the end of next week, I will be spending three days out of the closet. I’m attending the Writers’ League of Texas Agents Conference at the Hyatt Regency Austin. My id is already packed. I hope there’s a bellhop to carry the piano.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Writing in the Closet
Back in the Summer of 2007, I began a thread on a popular budget forum. It focused on controlled spending and money leaks. It blossomed like I couldn’t believe, and like a well reared child, continues on without me. In January 2008, I began blogging here, mostly about the same topics as well as some family issues. My last post was in August of 2009.
A little while after that post, I pulled out a novel that I had finished back somewhere in 2003. I had trunked it, as it were. Dusting it off, I set out to read it and a magical thing seemed to happen. I couldn’t put it down, sure there were some major issues to be dealt with, and it needed a huge overhaul, but it was like it wasn’t mine. Maybe number three wasn’t so bad after all.
In 2010, we had some major juggling of priorities and I realized I wanted to finish what I then referred to with the working title of LollyJacked. I hacked it to pieces, tore it apart, and rewrote it. It was tough. Mommy, house, work, wife, hell, it’s a bitch. Our computer is adjacent to the living room so there is no peace when someone else is home. So, I upgraded the family computer and went to move the old Dell. Alas, there was nowhere for me to go. Our bedroom is too small to support a desk, our guestroom is overrun with amps, guitars, yodelers, and banjoes. In a fit of despair, I bought a cheap, tiny, student desk and moved into my bedroom closet.
If you are envisioning some walk-in closet turned tiny office, ditch it. It was a simple sliding door affair, and was barely deep enough for the smallest desk I could find. The doors had to come off just so I could work at the desk. The old Dell is so big, I have to balance the keyboard on my knees. Extension cords power the whole damn mess, and have to be put away to keep the tripping hazards to a minimum. Pin Up Girl posters and a Harry Potter standee line the back wall, empty hangers go above the computer, and the ever present Einstein wardrobe of black clothing flank the left. Life is good. I finished the first major overhaul huddled in there.
Before I could waffle, I printed the book on my ancient, expensive printer, spent an hour poking holes in it and dropping it into a three ring binder. I promptly gave it up to my first reader in years. She read it quickly, just a few weeks and told me it was good. Not a lot of feedback, but it was positive. I started my rewrites in the late fall and finished another version at the beginning of the year.
I promptly asked a few people to be my beta readers. Like a proud Mama, I printed, poked, packaged, and mailed them off. Crickets. Nothing. I’ve gotten a tiny bit back from one person, but that’s it. Not a single word. I was in despair. I was also slowly coming out of the other closet as a writer. I tried to talk about it some. I voiced my frustration to two others and in February, I presented two more copies to the world. Crickets. Nothing. One of them had started it, one had never bothered despite giving me his word. Crickets. Nothing.
In the meantime, my husband read it, loved it, and gave me encouragement. But, oh my heart, isn’t that what he’s there for? So, here I am. I’ve sent it out again to someone else I trust and am waiting to hear back. But, I’ve undergone a few more changes.
I’ve joined the Writers’ League of Texas and paid to go to their 2011 Agents Conference in June. I’ve gone to two of their events in Austin so far, and I can’t tell you how good it feels to be just a little out of the closet. It is daunting, and damn, conference is getting close!
My Next Post:
Why I Wrote in the Other Closet
A little while after that post, I pulled out a novel that I had finished back somewhere in 2003. I had trunked it, as it were. Dusting it off, I set out to read it and a magical thing seemed to happen. I couldn’t put it down, sure there were some major issues to be dealt with, and it needed a huge overhaul, but it was like it wasn’t mine. Maybe number three wasn’t so bad after all.
In 2010, we had some major juggling of priorities and I realized I wanted to finish what I then referred to with the working title of LollyJacked. I hacked it to pieces, tore it apart, and rewrote it. It was tough. Mommy, house, work, wife, hell, it’s a bitch. Our computer is adjacent to the living room so there is no peace when someone else is home. So, I upgraded the family computer and went to move the old Dell. Alas, there was nowhere for me to go. Our bedroom is too small to support a desk, our guestroom is overrun with amps, guitars, yodelers, and banjoes. In a fit of despair, I bought a cheap, tiny, student desk and moved into my bedroom closet.
If you are envisioning some walk-in closet turned tiny office, ditch it. It was a simple sliding door affair, and was barely deep enough for the smallest desk I could find. The doors had to come off just so I could work at the desk. The old Dell is so big, I have to balance the keyboard on my knees. Extension cords power the whole damn mess, and have to be put away to keep the tripping hazards to a minimum. Pin Up Girl posters and a Harry Potter standee line the back wall, empty hangers go above the computer, and the ever present Einstein wardrobe of black clothing flank the left. Life is good. I finished the first major overhaul huddled in there.
Before I could waffle, I printed the book on my ancient, expensive printer, spent an hour poking holes in it and dropping it into a three ring binder. I promptly gave it up to my first reader in years. She read it quickly, just a few weeks and told me it was good. Not a lot of feedback, but it was positive. I started my rewrites in the late fall and finished another version at the beginning of the year.
I promptly asked a few people to be my beta readers. Like a proud Mama, I printed, poked, packaged, and mailed them off. Crickets. Nothing. I’ve gotten a tiny bit back from one person, but that’s it. Not a single word. I was in despair. I was also slowly coming out of the other closet as a writer. I tried to talk about it some. I voiced my frustration to two others and in February, I presented two more copies to the world. Crickets. Nothing. One of them had started it, one had never bothered despite giving me his word. Crickets. Nothing.
In the meantime, my husband read it, loved it, and gave me encouragement. But, oh my heart, isn’t that what he’s there for? So, here I am. I’ve sent it out again to someone else I trust and am waiting to hear back. But, I’ve undergone a few more changes.
I’ve joined the Writers’ League of Texas and paid to go to their 2011 Agents Conference in June. I’ve gone to two of their events in Austin so far, and I can’t tell you how good it feels to be just a little out of the closet. It is daunting, and damn, conference is getting close!
My Next Post:
Why I Wrote in the Other Closet
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