Entries Tagged as 'Misty Massey'

Do you believe in magic?

In 1992, I travelled with my best friend to Wales. It was a dream trip, because I’d wanted to go ever since discovering the Arthurian myths and legends. We castle-trekked (even snuck into one castle that was closed for the season - naughty Americans!) We ate in tiny pubs and met locals who considered us highly exotic because of our Southern accents. We climbed hills, we chased sheep, we bought trinkets.

One day, we decided to drive into the Brecon Beacons to see Llanthony Priory, a former Augustinian monastery. Legend held that it had been built on the site of a shrine to St Dafydd sometime around 1107. According to history, William de Lacey, a Norman noble, happened upon the site while he was hunting, and felt inspired to leave the world behind and immerse himself in prayer on that very spot. I could understand that feeling. The ruins stand in the remote Vale of Ewyas, far enough from roads and cities that the silence is palpable. One can hear sheep from miles away. Driving there was a challenge in itself, since the road became a lane, which became a path, before opening into a space to park in front of the Priory. We tumbled from the car and approached the ruins, chattering as usual. But once we crossed the threshold, something happened. We stood in what once was the church, and fell silent. I was staring at one of the arches when my friend started singing the Magnificat, very quietly, behind me. I felt weightless in that instant, although I didn’t feel I could move. Something from the very ground had waked up, was aware of us. It wasn’t threatening, but it was definitely there. We continued moving around the grounds, but the silly tourist attitude we’d had on the way up the mountain was gone. We were respectful and calm, because it was as if someone’s mother was looking.

Several years later, I was in the Lowcountry visiting my family. My husband had never seen Old Sheldon Church, so we drove out one afternoon. My church in town always held a spring service at Old Sheldon, which was crowded and noisy and buggy (mosquitoes and sand fleas…ugh) but on the day we went, we were the only people there. Once again, in the calm of the marshes, I could feel that presence. Not the same, of course, but it was clearly attentive. I laid my face against the mossy bricks and just stood, for a while, absorbing the feeling.

People ask why writers write. Some writers say they can’t avoid it, they have to write or they’ll lose their minds. Others say they have too many characters in their heads who want their stories told. There’s a different reason for every individual writer. I write because I’ve felt the magic and I want you to feel it, too.  Magic is all around us, not just in a vale across the ocean, nor in the marshes of South Carolina’s Lowcountry, but in my backyard. If I could, I’d drive every one of you up a Welsh mountain, or invite you all to my house to hang out in the woods.  But I can write it down, and share it with you. The world is full of enchantment, and no one is better qualified to show it than a writer.

Where have you found magic?

Friday Fun: Who’s Coming To Dinner?

I hear it all the time, sometimes from my own mouth - I wish the characters I read about were real people that I could take shopping, visit on vacation or invite to dinner. I miss them when the book is finished, miss them as much as I miss my real life, flesh & blood friends. Their writer has done his job so thoroughly that the characters feel like real people.

My fictional dinner party will include Helena Justina and Marcus Didius Falco from Lindsey Davis’ Falco mysteries (these two would probably run the conversation at the table!), Will Stanton from Susan Cooper’s The Dark Is Rising Sequence (I love Merriman, too, but Will’s less disquieting), Phil Davies, of Tim Powers’ On Stranger Tides (every dinner party needs a hot pirate!), Brother Cadfael, from Ellis Peters’ Brother Cadfael mysteries (he’s peaceful, well-read, and can probably keep Davies honest for the duration of the evening), Repairman Jack from F Paul Wilson’s Adversary Cycle (not that he’d come to dinner - he’s a bit wary), Ronny Dillon, from Tom Dietz’ Soulsmith Trilogy (because I want to talk with him about that radio tarot process), Tarod from Louise Cooper’s Time Master Trilogy (if your steak suddenly looks like a pink and green swim noodle, please forgive him - he IS a chaos lord, you know) and Phaid the Gambler from Mick Farren’s Phaid books (such a charmer).

Tell me - who would you like to invite to dinner?  (No fair choosing your own characters!)

The Silence

Every now and then, I drop in to Neil Gaiman’s site to see where he’s travelling and what he’s thinking about. A few days ago, Neil quoted from science fiction author Samuel R. Delaney’s letters:

“Writers are people who write. By and large, they are not happy people. They’re not good at relationships. Often they’re drunks. And writing — good writing — does not get easier and easier with practice. It gets harder and harder — so eventually the writer must stall out into silence.The silence that waits for every writer and that, inevitably, if only with death (if we’re lucky the two may happen at the same time: but they are still two, and their coincidence is rare), the writer must fall into, is angst-ridden and terrifying - and often drives us mad. ”

He seems to be of the opinion that good writing only comes from a deep dissatisfaction with one’s life. I have the tendency to become depressed, sure, but on the whole, I’m a pretty cheerful person. I love hanging out with people. I’ve been married, happily, to the same man for nearly 22 years, and that doesn’t appear to be changing any time soon. I have a teenaged son who likes me well enough. I have friends who enjoy my company. I’m an awful flirt. I drink rarely, and never alone. By Delaney’s definition, I’m not much like a writer.

Would my writing reach new levels of brilliance if I started drinking? Would I become legendary if I let myself sink into depression? Would I reach the NYT bestseller lists if only I self-medicated with spray paint in a paper bag? I don’t think so. I know what actual depression, the kind only doctors can fix, feels like, and there was no creativity during that time. I work best when things are going well. The happier I am, the more words spill out all over the paper. But the silence Delaney mentioned…boy, do I feel that silence lurking. It’s the sound of ideas going wrong, the hollow echo of a well of words drying up. It’s the stalking cat on a branch above me, waiting to pounce when I give up on a story because I just can’t think of where it should go next. It’s the shadow in an alley, threatening to swallow me for not taking chances. It keeps me working, which keeps me happy.

Or maybe I’m crazy already, and I just don’t know it. :D

Wow, That Must Have Cost A Lot!

Becoming a published writer isn’t complicated. The writer writes a brilliant manuscript. He sends it to a literary agent he has researched carefully, following all the guidelines that agent requires. The agent loves the manuscript, and starts shopping it to all the editors she knows. One of those editors sees the brilliance in the manuscript and makes an offer. See? Published!

Okay, settle down all of you. I didn’t say it was easy - I said it wasn’t complicated. There’s a difference. Most of the time publishers and agents make their guidelines easy to find and simple to follow. The difficulty comes when writers decide the rules just do not apply to them. Susie handwrites her manuscript on pink scented paper, even though it clearly says “typed, double-spaced on white paper.” Jarod sends his 980 page novel to an editor who prefers lengths of 110K to 120K words. Maria mails a paper copy to an agent who only takes emailed submissions. Hubert sends the entire manuscript when the agent only asked for three chapters. Angela writes one draft, then refuses to listen to anyone’s suggestions for making it better. I attended a writing conference years ago, during which an agent was meeting with each writer individually for a manuscript critique. We’d been instructed to send the first thirty pages of our manuscript ahead of time. The first evening, a woman was railing to the group about the epidemic of agents stealing people’s work by doing these critiques. She, however, had worked out a way to foil the agent. She’d sent in thirty random, nonconsecutive pages from her book. Writers can sabotage themselves so effectively, it’s a bit of a surprise anything gets published at all.

If you’re sure I have no idea what I’m talking about, and that the rules truly do NOT apply to you, great. There are people who’re just dying to make money off of your dreams and desires. They dress themselves up as publishers, create websites that assure you your writing is fantastic and it’s just that good-old-boy mentality in New York that’s keeping you down, and for only $1295, they will make sure your book sees the light of day. Pink paper? Handwritten manuscript? It’s all good. They’ll accept whatever you send as long as a check is attached.

Money should always flow TOWARD the writer, never away. Paying someone to print your book is merely that - printing. It’s not publishing. The worst part is so many people have gone this route that it’s almost expected. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard, “Gosh, you must have paid a lot to get this done!” There’s nothing wrong with paying someone to print your book, if that’s all you want. Say you’ve written a family memoir that only 40 or 50 of your relatives will want. Pay the company and receive a nice product. But if you’ve written a fantasy blockbuster that you hope will put you in the same company with George R R Martin or Stephen King, paying someone to print it won’t get you very far. Distributors don’t usually carry those books, and bookstores don’t want to stock books they can’t return. You’ll be stuck selling your books from your garage. Not to mention the stigma such books acquire. They’re almost never properly edited. The covers are usually created with Photoshop, so they look amateurish. They’re priced ridiculously high because the print run is low and the company doesn’t expect to sell many copies (except to you.) What’s that? Christopher Paolini did it? Well, not exactly. What he did accomplish took an extraordinary amount of hard work combined with a stroke of pure luck, not to mention a lot of his parents’ money.

If you want to base your book’s success on luck, I wish you well. If you want to pay for a book so you can put it on your shelf and show it off to visitors, knock yourself out. Write the check and enjoy your shiny book. But if you want to tell stories to lots of people, sell books from coast to coast and maybe build yourself a career, then do it right. Write a brilliant story. Rewrite it. Make it the best you can make it, and accept criticism when it comes your way. Follow the rules.

It’s not complicated.

Here a link, there a link…

Since it’s entirely possible a lot of you are travelling this weekend, or are just in the mood for the holiday already, I decided to share some time-killers to get you through this day before the long weekend. Have fun!

Poetry:
Introduction to Poetry
The Book of my Enemy Has Been Remaindered

World Building Help:
World Check

Need a book recommendation?
If you’re a fan of Lost, you can now read the books that are featured on the show - The Lost Book Club

Sounds from the ancient past:
Roberto Velazquez assists archaeologists in recreating sounds not heard in hundreds of years.
David Crystal, a language expert and historian, consulted on a Globe Theatre production of “Romeo and Juliet” in Early Modern English, the way Shakespeare might have said it.

Do You Have A Resume?

Have you ever read the bios that writers publish in their work?  Granted you don’t usually get to see the early job histories of your lawyer, your massage therapist or your English teacher, but it seems that writers take on some wacky jobs before they finally get published.  I don’t necessarily mean jobs that seem like they belong n a book - sometimes it’s just jobs that sound so far removed from a writing career that one has to wonder what drove the writer to even take it in the first place.  I’ve dipped ice cream, waited tables in a deli, taught math to migrant children who spoke mostly Haitian French, run a video store that we all believed was a front for money laundering, and waited tables in a Mexican restaurant that specialized in drenching everything with nacho-flavored Velveeta and paid me under the table.  I cold-called businesses to try and convince them they needed more equipment and they should lease it through our company (by far, the worst job.)  I spent a year manning the Service Desk in a mall bookstore, where I had to assist people who wanted me to tell them where “that blue book I saw on the Today Show back in the winter” might be, then moved to a college bookstore, where I had to assist professors who wanted “that blue book we saw at a conference last summer.”  I taught three-year-olds for over a decade, and finally landed in the middle school library (where the children are almost exactly the same, except for being taller.)

In every job, I was able to observe people doing all the weird, kind, tragic, hopeful, selfish, silly, bizarre things they do.  All those idiosyncrasies come from the real-time research of people-watching, and I can now use them all when creating characters in my work.  Writing is a solitary life, so having the chance to see real people behaving in all the irrational ways they do can only imbue my fiction with a reality I wouldn’t have otherwise.  As hard as some of those jobs made me work, I wouldn’t change a thing.

But I tell you, if I can go the rest of my life without smelling cheap nacho Velveeta again, that’d be just dandy.

Who are you?

Last night I was talking to a friend who is reading my book.  She told me it’s been a little bizarre reading because she knows me…or thought she did.  “You write sword fights!  And describe people being wounded as if you know how it feels!” she said.  “How do you figure all that out?”  I explained that having a cooperative husband who’ll block fight scenes with me helps, but she shook her head.  “No, it’s just that I realize you’re not quite who I thought you were.”  This friend only knows me from dance, where I am joyful and energetic.  So of course it might be a bit daunting to recognize that I might have a darker side, one that knows how injuries feel, how enticing vengeance can be and what betrayal looks like.   I’ve run into the same thing with coworkers, who read the book and suddenly look at me as if they’re trying to find the no-nonsense, efficient librarian whose body I’ve obviously taken over.

It’s still me.  I’m still cheerful in the morning, madly in love with my husband and determined to find the magic I believe is out there.  I’m a good daughter, a loving mother, a faithful friend.  I experience deep anger and irrational jealousy.  I laugh easily.   I’m afraid of heavy winds but I love a good thunderstorm.  I write so I can travel to places that exist nowhere but my imagination and I dance in order to free my body and  connect to the numinous, that something ‘other’ that makes the ordinary into the extraordinary.  So I wrote something that startled you, something that a nice lady like me shouldn’t know about?  Better just take a deep breath and keep reading.  ‘Cause this is what I do.

This is who I am.

The Big Secret

Yesterday Faith talked about how to approach an agent … and how not to. The same advice goes for approaching a published writer for help. Ever since “Mad Kestrel” hit the shelves, I’ve been receiving emails from nice people very politely asking me to help them. People I do not know.

Before I was published, I was lucky to have the guidance of a published author, Faith Hunter. We met when I joined the writing group she also belonged to. She encouraged me to try writing a novel when all I’d done up to that point was short fiction. She was constructively brutal when I needed it, supportive and kind when I was suffering. She took me under her wing because she believed in me. And she believed in me because she’d had time to get to know me and my writing.

I’ve had complete strangers offer to send me their novels. (If y’all could only see the stack of published books I haven’t read yet!) I’ve had people attach their novels to the email requesting I read them. (One lady, when I told her there were liabilities to me doing that, promised very sincerely that she’d never tell. Uh huh.) I’ve had people offer me ideas if I do the writing. (If only they knew how long it takes me to write the ideas I have now!) I remember how hard it was to write a whole novel the first time. The anguish of rejections, the stress of not knowing what comes next, the worry over whether I’d ever get an agent to represent me - those are all still very fresh in my mind. And who knows, one of those nice people might be the next J K Rowling, and I could discover her! I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t enticing.

But here’s the thing…I’m a writer first. I’m not the one who’ll spend her time showing editors your work, nor can I buy your novel from you. All I could do is look at it and tell you what works and what doesn’t. While I’m doing that for you, I’m not writing MY book. If it comes to my book or yours competing for my attention, mine is going to win. Especially if I’ve never even met you before. Yes, a published author helped me. I let her get to know me first, get to know that I meant what I said, that I could do the work myself and that I was willing to tough it out. In J K Holmes’ interview last Friday, she mentioned that she’d had the assistance of writer Carolyn Haines, but once again, that help came because they had a personal relationship, and Carolyn recognized J K was ready to put her money where her mouth was.

I don’t mean to sound like a downer - we do want to help. That’s why the four of us are here - this blog is a way for all of us to pay it forward. We welcome writers’ questions here. If you run into one or more of us at a con or writing conference, we’re happy to give advice and suggestions. Write, rewrite, make your book as good as it can possibly be. Take advantage of opportunities like writing critique groups or online support forums, and if you luck onto a personal relationship with someone in the business, treat it gently.

But you’re going to have to learn the craft for yourself, the hard way. The same way we all did. That’s the big secret to getting published.

Don’t forget to stop by tomorrow for a special guest appearance from Edmund Schubert, writer, managing editor of Diversity Woman and fiction editor of Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show, an online sf/fantasy ‘zine.

That perfect place

Sometimes you hear writers speak of their writing area as a sacred space, the place where all the cares of the day vanish and they are able to produce valuable, readable, entertaining and satisfying work. Most of the time, they’re talking about a corner of their bedroom or an office, the spot in their house that’s been designated for creative activity.

For me, it’s the beach. We come here once a year with my family for a week of rest and disconnection, and yet I find my mind whirling and creating with every minute I’m awake (and some while I’m sleeping - you should have SEEN the zombie dream I had last night! *shudder*) I have to carry a notebook out to the beach every day, because ideas flow like wine when I’m under the sun and listening to the surf. Not just piratey ideas, but all kinds. It’s as if an extra, unused portion of my brain has been switched on, and there’s just not enough time to write it all down. I managed two pages on Monday, nine on Tuesday, and three yesterday. That’s more than I even shoot for in a whole week during the school year!

This is my sacred space. And I really am not sure I want to come home. If I move to the beach, will y’all come visit me?

PS Don’t forget…we have a special guest here on Magical Words tomorrow - J K Holmes! And when you finish reading her fabulous interview, drop over to madkestrel.livejournal.com to see what’s going on with the zombie uprising!

Friday Fun - The End Is Near!

On June 13, 2007, the blogosphere was overrun with the walking dead. Brave souls from Blogspot to LiveJournal to Wordpress risked all to post their news about the horrible events of the day. Luckily, somewhere around midnight, the zombies mysteriously dropped dead (for real this time) and the world was saved.

Well folks, June 13 is looming, looks like there’s something to worry about again. Better stock up on the emergency water, board up those windows and have your shotguns and baseball bats ready. Be safe!

Just in case the message wasn’t clear, if you happen to see blog entries next Friday that sound alarming and apocalyptic, please remember, it’s a game. Don’t panic. It’s fun. It’s a great writing exercise. It’s entirely voluntary. I, Misty, will be blogging on my individual blog, NOT HERE. The others may play or may not, as they choose.


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