Getting encouraged by rejection

I got my rejection from Clarion West today. And I find it encouraging--in both the language they used and in the fact that the process of applying helped me take a big step forward in getting my work out there. I've had measurable growth as a writer in these last six months or so. I'm on the right track. My confidence in my abilities is solid. I am really excited by what I'm working on and what I hope to achieve.

I would have loved to go to Clarion West and workshop with other serious writers. But since space was limited, I really appreciate that they said "no" in such a positive manner. It reaffirms that they would be really cool to work with.

I'm still improving on my own though: that means that next year my application will be even better. I know I'm looking forward to seeing what I'll be able to imagine and create. FutureMe is even more awesome as a writer. Professional. Dedicated. Daring. Ready to learn and experiment as much as possible so she can keep growing. I totally believe in that woman--she rocks.

So I can find gratitude, even in rejection.

Workshop Wednesday

I had a wonderful day today workshopping some writing with my writer's group. It was lovely to see them again and we had a special birthday lunch to celebrate L.'s birthday two days ago. And we workshopped three pieces and then I laid out my plot for my novel and received some great feedback. It was something of a revelation to just talk plot and structure with other writers. It seems like in all my college career and in all the previous writing groups I've been to--there's not enough open dialogue about how to tell a story. Especially on the scope of a novel.

It was such an inspiring and energizing meeting that later when I got home and found an email rejection from Clarion San Diego, it was far easier to shrug it off. Oh well, I have novel plot decisions to make and revisions to write. No time to mope really.

I love the work I submitted to Clarion. It was my best work. I stand behind that. I want to do more of that quality work. And sure being admitted to Clarion would have helped improve my writing, but I'll figure it out on my own too. And maybe the independent path is the more rewarding one.

Eh. 10 days until I hear back from Clarion West. If they don't accept me either, I'm going to have to plan some seriously awesome stuff to do during those 6 weeks. Like a Yosemite trip for rock climbing and writing. And Worldcon. And my own serious burn on producing the first complete draft of my MS. I'm excited by all those prospects.

This is rivoting.

http://www.ted.com/talks/view/lang///id/1368

I have been working like crazy lately on short fiction, preparing my application to the Clarion Workshop. But I've been meaning to gather awe-inspiring poets for more than a month. So creating this was a worthy distraction. Who are your favorite poets?

Really Good Poets:
Andrea Gibson: Probably my favorite poet (as much as I have one). Here's some crazy wonderful love poetry that makes me love her:
An awesome political poem: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GoWNnt4Fdh4
Real optimism: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=untGVUfVGdo
Who wouldn't fall in love with her? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JA7AaBSroq8

Sarah Kay: She gave an excellent TED talk about poetry then performed two great poems: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0snNB1yS3IE
Cute and Clever: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BIAQENsqcuM&feature=related Awesome poem about friendship: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mgNdTnIGDRs

Saul Williams (I don't always get his poems but this one is brilliant):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b1S7qTsW5SY

Talor Mali-- this is a classic poem:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tpog1_NFd2Q&feature=related

tanya davis: she writes true. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k7X7sZzSXYs http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=soleJsaBZD4&feature=related

Buddy Wakefield: original and powerful: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIr4pL9P0SA

Gary Soto. Just one of my favorite poems ever. http://www.akoot.com/garysoto10.html

e.e. cummings poem

suppose

Life is an old man carrying flowers on his head.

young death sits in a cafe
smiling, a piece of money held between
his thumb and first finger

(i say "will he buy flowers" to you
and "Death is young
life wears velour trousers
life totters, life has a beard" i

say to you who are silent.--"Do you see
Life? he is there and here,
or that, or this
or nothing or an old man 3 thirds
asleep, on his head
flowers, always crying
to nobody something about les
roses les bluets
yes,
will He buy?
Les belles bottes--oh hear,
pas cheres")

and my love slowly answered I think so. But
I think I see someone else

there is a lady, whose name is Afterwards
she is sitting beside young death, is slender;
likes flowers.

New tools

I'm deeply impressed with some new writing tools that my tech savvy husband brought to my attention. I've participated in NaNoWriMo twice now, and I loved the simple bar graph that measured daily progress toward the 50K word goal. Now I have something I can customize, like that, for my own projects. Woot. Plus the same open source programmer has made something a thousand times better than my old word processor, called FocusWriter. And there was much rejoicing.

Seriously, if you write go check out what this guy has done.

http://gottcode.org/focuswriter/

I'm feeling really excited and optimistic. I've got some great new tools and I'm working on a rough draft of a fun new project. Who knows, it might even be the start of regular blog posts. Now that would be something, wouldn't it?

courage: and tailing tells to donkeys

A friend told me a joke a couple weeks ago that seems relevant.

There is a pirate captain sailing in her own ship, determined to out-run the British naval forces. Her first mate is pacing furiously, pulling her hair out, wringing her hands, micro-managing. Finally in disgust the first mate shouts to the captain, "they are almost within firing range sir, we are sure to have our blood shed today! We must give up!"

The captain stands still, shakes her head, even smiles a little at some inner joke, then she speaks. "No. We will fight until we have no other option. Now, bring me my red shirt, so they can not tell if their bullets have found their mark."

Yet no sooner had the first mate returned with the red shirt, than a sailor from the lookout shouted, "The Spanish forces are approaching from the north! We're to be trapped between two enemies. It's ten ships against one!"

A dreadful silence falls. And the Captain holds her head high. "We will fight!" She cries out. Then after a moment of thought, in a quieter voice, she requests of her first mate, "and bring me my brown pants."

It seems relevant because yesterday I had a good conversation with a friend who wants to be an actress. She wants to be one badly enough that should she not get into a graduate program for acting again (last year was unsuccessful), she will literally quit her job and give it a go anyway. Surviving as an actress. She's afraid. She hopes it won't come to that. I'm afraid for her. I'm also half in love with her for loving her own potential, her own art, so purely. She's got the courage to go all in, betting on herself.

Today I struggled to work on my Work In Progress (WIP), a murder mystery novel that I've been stabbing at from many angles with many different sharp objects. Ever play pin the tail on the donkey when you were young? You spend most of the game getting spun around by your friends while blindfolded until you're too dizzy to walk straight. Then you must find the donkey and affix a tail to it. It works as a metaphor for my WIP, especially if the donkey is real and actively opposed to the idea of getting a prosthetic tail stapled to its butt.

Sometimes I feel all woe-is-me I just got a hoof to the solar plexus and now all my murder motives are nothing but loose mucus. Then I remember, hey, I'm in the game, I'm the captain, bring me my red shirt. I'm learning. And you know what, if it gets worse, bring me my brown pants. I'll be here, working. Everyday.