paper your bedroom with rejections

You know how everyone says to keep all your rejection letters? Like medals, or badges, or awards?

Tonight, as I picked my way through revisions, I somehow started reading old rejection letters from when TIB was on sub. It was weird. I haven't read them in a year, at least. Or more.

And in a way it was painful, like pricking my eyeballs with needles - or like digging up old sad memories.

But it was also invigorating. Like the March wind that's slamming against my windows right now and the March rain/snow/hail/sun that's blowing through Seattle this week.

In two ways, I was convicted and compelled to dig deep, past the excuses I make to not revise.

They're not nasty revision letters, or form letters, or even harsh - now that months and months of time separates them from my writing brain. They're actually encouraging. Full of we love your writing and we'd love to see your next manuscript and things that make me feel tingly and capable again. Like maybe I'd be more foolish to give up.

And I want to prove that I can.

Wanderlove by Kirsten Hubbard

This book, Kirsten Hubbard's second, makes me want to jump on a plane again. Learn some Spanish, put on my backpack, and wander Central America.

By some lovely coincidence, I realized this morning that today is Wanderlove release day - and found a copy at my library - and spent most of my afternoon off imagining that I was in Guatemala and Belize with Bria and Rowan as I read the whole thing. Wanderlove is a beautiful book. Kirsten Hubbard's descriptions are vivid, humid, jungle-y and full of Caribbean rainstorms that make you feel soaking wet and hot all at once. She takes us through Mayan markets, up jungle rivers, into cheap backpacker hostels, and off the beaten path as Bria, a wanna-be global vagabond, ditches her tour group for the mysterious and wander-loving Rowan and Starling, two backpackers who love to travel cheap -- and maybe love to run from their pasts as much as Bria does. 

Bria's an artist, and her detailed sketches and travel lists add visuals, humor, and beauty to her narrative. But her voice was my favorite part - a little self-deprecating and definitely uncertain, envious of all beautiful backpackers and their effortless and disheveled Bohemian style, protective of her art and never sure whether to hang back or fling herself into her new experiences. Her first-time discovery of the joys, annoyances and pressing questions of traveling are thoughtful and provoking. And Rowan, well, is really attractive. Loved it. 

intro to y.a.

I have this friend who's never read any YA. Yesterday I was trying to explain the genre to him: it's anything about teenagers, coming of age, MUCH more than Twilight. Could be fantasy, verse, sci-fi, paranormal, contemporary, short, long, edgy, easy.

Then today, when it was slow at the restaurant, I made a list. Kind of a "Must Read YA" list, but also a "these books represent all that YA is right now" list. Like, if you read them all, you'd get a good feel for the diversity, vibrancy, voices, possibilities and intentions of YA.

My list is below. Obviously I'm missing a ton, but I don't want the list to be long. Just a sort of "Intro to Brit Lit" (except YA) course list.

1. The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

2. Looking for Alaska by John Green

3. I Am The Messenger by Marcus Zuzak

4. Divergent by Veronica Roth

5. The Truth About Forever by Sarah Dessen (or The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight by Jennifer E Smith - can't decide which).

What do you think? Would you add anything? Disagree with anything? What's your list?

downton abbey and silver spoons

I'm a Downton Abbey fan - in a big, heart-wrenching sort of way. I'm totally captivated. But I thought this LA Times article was illuminating and thought-provoking... we do mourn the disappearance of the old-world aristocracy right along with Lord Grantham and Lady Mary, right? And want all the servants to stay? And nothing to change? (And Matthew and Mary to marry? AH.)

"Exquisitely rendered and perfectly displayed, "Downton Abbey" is a beggar's banquet and, while Occupiers protest and the politicians argue, while the international economies shiver and the gap between rich and poor grows too wide to be breached by any staircase, we eat it up with a silver spoon."

that writerly feeling

I know I haven't blogged in eons. I think that'll be my usual thing now-days...I guess it is my usual thing...but I won't disappear completely.

This is just to say: do you ever feel so much like a writer that you're too excited to actually write?

I brought my revisions to my favorite coffee shop this afternoon. I've done a tiny bit of thinking on my agent's edit notes but today's the day for serious progress. I hope. Right now, though, I'm enjoying the slant of winter sun on my manuscript pages and the hum of the latte machine and the leaf swirl in my foam - so much that I had to snap a picture. Here it is.





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revisions

I coaxed myself through the whole rough draft process of Untitled with the promise of revisions. I've always liked revisions because I'm working with something that already exists, already has structure. I always thought it was easier than plucking words out of nowhere.

But.

My revising brain's still off on vacation, so this first round is a mess. Not organizationally. I use Scrivener to write: all my chapters are separated and summarized, labeled with dates and notes and to-do lists. I have a master list, a color-code system.

But my method is a disaster.

My mom and grandma play a duet version of "Sleigh Ride" every Christmas Eve -- it's a long tradition -- and this year I'm trying to learn the secondo part. It's weird because my ears know the piece perfectly from years and years of listening, but my hands don't know it at all. So I've been playing it with my mom every night, and most nights I end up completely lost at some point. But since I know how it's supposed to sound, I usually just plunk along, lost, banging out whatever chords and notes my hands find until I somehow get back on track.

This is how I'm revising right now, too. I have my sheet music -- aka my organized notes and lists -- but I'm kind of just bouncing through the manuscript, lost, picking random scenes to tweak and twist, probably not hitting the right notes at all.

I think this is a sign that I need to take a break, but I keep having this delusional daydream that I'm going to send it off to my agent by the end of the week and she's going to say "This is AMAZING, let's put it on submission right this second!" Completely delusional. I, of all people, should know (I do know) how revisions go. On and on.

But somehow, I always think this time is going to be different, and I can just skate through...

Here are two illuminating posts on revisions that inspired me this morning! One on Janice Hardy's blog about turning revision into a game, and one on Anna Staniszewski's blog about going big.

a new project

I know I've been pretty quiet (well, silent) about what writing projects I've been working on in the last year or so. Honestly, that's because I haven't been working on much (read: nothing) at all. (Although my short story, published by YARN this summer, has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, which is super!) Basically, I took a long break to study abroad, graduate from college, intern/work, then travel in Asia.

But now, I'm finally working hard on a manuscript again. It's contemporary YA. Here's the synopsis. It's called Untitled. 

Olivia blogs. Ilona, Macy and Hayes read, obsessively, everything that Olivia posts on her soul-searching online journal. It’s their new reality show: really real and really good to read with popcorn and chocolate chip cookies. But when Olivia’s problems stray from boy problems to scarier things like loneliness and depression, Ilona and her friends must cross the boundary between their reality show and someone else’s reality, and barge into Olivia’s life. If they can find her off-line.



I finished the rough draft last week. It's a baby rough draft, only about 55k, so I plan to revise for a while before sending it to my lovely agent. Then who knows, right?