Readercon

On Saturday, Dundee, Barbecue Man and I got on a bus bound for Boston. Barbecue Man was flying home, to Texas, while Dundee and I would spend a few days in Boston.

While checking into my hotel I noticed my Swedish cell phone was gone. Most likely it fell out of my pocket on the bus or in the taxi to the hotel. D'oh. So I had to deal with that, without any luck (still gone gone without a trace), and then check in before Dundee and I went to Readercon.

Our intention was to sit in on a number of panels, look around and then hook up with a bunch of OdFellows. We missed the Urban (Fantasy) Renewal panel, which could have been interesting, and sat in on Location as Character with Djinni, a panel that turned out to be mindnumbingly boring.

After that, Dundee left for something else, which was his loss because the Cities, Real and Imaginary turned out to be really good.

The subject of the panel was:

Great stories have been set in cities both real and imagined. Does a real city require different writing techniques from an imagined one? How well do you need to know (and research) an actual city? If you're making one up, how do you apply your knowledge of real cities? When can you "cheat"? When do you have to?

The first panel member to speak (I think it was Lila Garrott) has some sort of academic background in analysing cities (I didn't catch what exactly) and opened by saying that whatever strange cities we come up, few if any will rival the strangeness to be found in the cities of this world.

She used Tokyo as an example. The city was built as a spiral, moving out from the Imperial Palace, with those closest to the Emperor and the most powerful living closest to the palace. The form came about because everyone wanted to be as close as their status allowed them to be. This is an example of organic growth of a city, something which the panel concluded is lacking in fictional cities, which are constructed rather than organic.

Personally I would love to create a fictional city and set a series of stories in it, especially if I could start from zero and have it grow along a timeline.

The panel leader, Leah Bobet, went on to say that cities in fiction don't break. There are no subway problems, unless it's important to move the plot forward, and the city doesn't feel like the ecosystem it should be. Because of this, a fictional rarely feels lived in, but comes off as a stage, a backdrop to the story being told instead of an integral part of it.

During the panel, China Miéville's city New Crobuzon was brought up over and over again as an example of a working fictional city. I agree that New Crobuzon has texture, almost as if the smog and dirt and drone of the city leaps up from the page, but as he does so may other times, Miéville takes it one step too far and crams one thing too many in there. Just like Ben & Jerry's. If only those frikkin' chocolate fish weren't there in Phish Food . . .

Back to the panel. They argued that a city of one thing, such as a City of Flowers, where everything is tied to flowers, is one neighborhood in a major metropolis like New York City, and not plausible as a concept for a whole city. Instead of looking at the city and applying Weird to the whole thing, authors should apply Weird to individual neighborhoods. This is something that Miéville does really well in Perdido Street Station (we all agreed), and that more authors should strive for.

As to real cities, it was quickly agreed that the author should spend time in any city he or she wishes to set a story in. This goes without saying, I think, but at the same time there is much to be said for Google Earth and other internet resources. Combined with an actual visit an author can get a clear image of the city.

Lots more was said, but this was all the notes I took.

During the coming year I will work on short stories but also see if it's plausible to set a novel in a fantastic version of Constantinople (Istanbul was Constantinople. Now it's Istanbul. Not Constantinople. Been a long time gone, Constantinople) in the 11th century. If I come to the conclusion that it can and should be done, I will probably go there next year.

Outside the panels, I bought too many books (as in more than none), found a ninja rubber duckie for a friend, talked for a while with John Joseph Adams who lectured for us at Odyssey a few days earlier, and sat down with a dozen or so OdFellows and talked about this and that.

Then we fled, Dundee and I, because the post-Odyssey exhaustion crashed down on us.

That last day

We had no real lectures on our final day of Odyssey. Evil Overlord spent some time talking about our six weeks and went on to tell us that she is convinced each and every one of us has the abolity to become a published and professional author.

I can't get that into my head. Someone with that much experience from the publishing industry believes I could be published.

That evening we gave Overlord and the Commodore their presents. Overlord got a scepter, an evil claw-like thing topped with a crystal, that she can use to subjugate her minions next year. The Commodore got a gift certificate at a comic book store, and a small plush moose with a goat's head taped on to feed to her dragon.

Then there was a mixer with OdFellows of years past, who were participating in TNEO - The Neverending Odyssey, a one-week critique-intensive week open only to OdFellows). Lemonade, cookies and geeks galore. We all went around the room and let the others know our goals for the coming year.

My goals: polish and send out one short story per month. Start research for a novel. Write a short story over the next two weeks to send to some people in the class for crit.

As people started leaving, the tears came. I managed to avoid them, though it was hard, especially when saying goodbye to Evil Overlord.

Later, we ended up in Barbecue Man and Dundee's apartment. Out came the guitar and the beer and the smiles and the cherry bourbon and the laughs. Around 0100 we took a nightly walk, around the campus, to the graveyard, to the Giant Head, to the haunted house. It took an hour and a half, and I know we all dragged out feet because we didn't want the night to end. The whole walk had a surreal quality, almost dreamlike, and for a moment it did feel like the night would go on forever.

I went to sleep at 0330, after having spent 40 minutes writing. I got up at 0700 the next morning, to get ready to board the buss to Boston.

More on that and some other stuff some other time. Tomorrow I leave for Maine to hang out EGE for a few days, so if I don't post stuff don't freak out. It's perfectually natural.

Geekiest curses ever

Meta coined what may well be the geekiest curse words ever.

Spock you!

This is said while using an inverted Vulcan salute to flip off the victim of the curse, preferably in the Italian fashion from under the chin.

In response to this, the following geek curses were created:

Beam off.

Motherphaser.

Eat shatner and die.

I think it is safe to say the geekometer burned out while this was being said.

Pics galore 3

So weird to wake up somewhere else than the dorm room today. Below, pics from the last week or so of Odyssey.

The farewell barbecue for author in residence

Gary Braunbeck. Too many people to name.

Gary Braunbeck, Darth Harp and the Commodore.

Djinni, Meta and Sister, at the Indian restuarant.

Best place we went to. Just thinking about it now makes

my stomach go "Go back there, you fool!"

Meta, Sister, Harp, Narcomancer and Alaska, enjoying Indian food.

When OdFellows fight with foam swords, which was a

recurring theme, blood is not spilled. But candy is.

Arts and crafts night preparing gifts for Evil

Overlord and the Commodore goes horribly wrong.

"We're bored."

"Let's braid his beard!"

Not a new concept, but the look was new.

The last nightly walk. Saying goodbye to The Giant Head.

All of a sudden we were in third grade as stalks of grass

simulated insects. As if the real insects weren't enough.

Party Planner and Alaska enjoying a popsicle after the walk.

From the late night get-together on the last night:

Peeko filming away. Alaska trying to avoid being in pics.

Peeko assaulted by lots and lots of beard.

Meta looking for tabs. There was much guitar playing.

The Head had to be touched. Rough and soft at the same time.

Desk Fairy, as I came to be called, and Party Planner.

Alright. I'll say it. Attention whore.

Barbecue man strumming away. Djinni, Party

Planner and the Commodore in the background.

And I feel fine

Right now I am seated on one of two aircraft carrier-sized beds in my Boston hotel room. It is Saturday, it's after midnight, I am exhausted in both body and spirit, but I can't sleep.

Yesterday was the last day of Odyssey 2011. Six weeks, gone, over and out, game over, man, game over.

I don't even know where to begin to describe my experience. I have been writing over these past weeks about writing techniques we've been taught by Evil Overlord and our guest lecturers, about writing and laughing. But I haven't said anything more profound, have I?

This is going to sound totally pretentious, but I have changed over these six weeks. Yes, I have learned tools for a writer that I didn't even knew existed, and it has elevated my writing to whole new levels, but I have also been transformed as a person.

Writing is so personal, so close to who we are, that anything that changes that process, that makes me look at it and reevaluate my own relation to writing, will also change me. Has changed me.

I have pics to post and things to write about the last few days of Odyssey, but for now I will say this. The Odyssey Writing Workshop has been one of the best experiences of my life. I look back at these six weeks in awe. Absolute awe. Of the phenomenon that is Jeanne Cavelos, a.k.a . Evil Overlord, of the knowledge she imparts on her minions, of the fantastic people I have been surrounded by. There are no words, really.

Thank you. Thank you, Miss Gone, for finding this class. Thank you, Work, that gave me the time off. Thank you, fellow OdFellows, for making these six weeks such a brilliant combination of learning, inspiration and utter madness. And thank you to my parents, who have fanned the flames of my imagination since the first time I played dressup as a little non-bearded fellow.

Alright. Enough of the sentimentality already. More tomorrow.

Sleep now in the fire

Today editor John Joseph Adams held a lecture about publishing short fiction. He is the current editor of Lightspeed and Fantasy, and has edited a number of anthologies of sf, fantasy, etc.

He talked about how to grab an editor's attention, what he wants as an editor, what he doesn't want, what a cover letter is supposed to include, how not to behave (don't reject the rejections!), how to handle questions around rights, exclusivity and reversion clauses, etc.

Lots and lots of non-creative stuff, but very important once I start sending stuff out to be published.

I got to sleep last night. It cooled down during the night. Now it's humid as hell again, so I won't get my hopes up for tonight. We'll see.

I turned in my final story for critique last night. Unmade, an apocalyptic fantasy story that I'm sort of happy with. If the others are remains to be seen. I am reading it out loud to a group of people later tonight.

So now I have no more stories to turn in. I will try and finish one more this week, and then Odyssey is over. So strange that six weeks have passed already, even though it feels like I've been here for months.

I shall now go read a story and write a crit for it. I shall leave you with some quotes.

Meta, about Party Planner: Not only did she write the shortest story today, now she brings us popsicles too. I may have to revise my crit.

John Joseph Adams, about writing a bio in a cover letter: Don't write "Oooh, I'm on Facebook, I'm on Twitter!" No one cares.

Kill. Crush. Destroy

Almost no sleep last night. Fragments of it, here and there, but that's it. I want a word or two with whoever designed our apartment. Apartments in the other house are much cooler, since they can get a cross breeze going.

So today I hate everyone in Sweden, where it's supposedly 22 degrees. Well, not everyone. But most of them. It's going up to 35 here today, and the humidity is brutal.

I almost had a meltdown yesterday, around 6:30. I made the best decision ever and went to the airconditioned awesomeness that is the reading room. Bliss. So today I'm going right after class.

Tonight editor John Joseph Adams arrives, and will hold a lecture tomorrow. Very appropriate, since this week is focused on the business end of things. How to find an agent, how to write a query letter, etc. Very interesting stuff, and since I haven't submitted a single thing, ever, and have done no research on markets, ever, it's vital info to me if I am going to get stuff out later this year.

Now, class. First, quote.

Meta: It seemed funny that Angelina thought black lace and a frog was a good sex-me-up look.

SUNCT. And a haunted house

Today has been a weird one. I woke up to The Headache. I was supposed to go listen to the monks do Gregorian chants in the chapel on campus, but no. Back to bed.

It's been with me all day. I've had maybe twenty attacks, none of them as bad as when I'm not on the drugs, but bad enough. Afterwards I almost always get a regular headache, so I've had that all day. Thanks Ibuprofen, for giving me a few hours' relief.

I got some writing done. I finished The Godslayer, my apocalyptic fantasy story that I am turning in on Wednesday morning. Getting it done today was nice, now I have a few nights to revise it. In the end, I might not turn it in, if I have the stones to write another story. We'll see.

Other activities today have included a trip to Barnes & Noble, not-as-good-as-Nadeau's subs and an hour and a half long walk with Party Planner (yes, alright, enough with the Palin now, we're after all in week six as of 28 minutes ago) and Alaska.

There are all kinds of sights on the walk, things we tend to go by every time. The fireflies on the field. The monk graveyard. The stone head. The haunted house (only some times).

As we neared the graveyard today we heard what sounded like a sprinkler. We've never heard a sprinkler there before, or even seen one. "A moose peeing," I said. We got out of there quickly. Our final theory? One hundred monk zombies pissing.

We decided to take the long long route, past the haunted house. It's a big old house with a barn and old stables right next to it. Every time we go by, which is always after ten p.m., there are cars outside and the lights are on in the back rooms. It looks like they're renovating it. Tonight as we passed, a black cat sat in the second story window, silhouetted by those lights. If ever there was a cat that looked like it belonged to a wicked witch, it was that one.

So, I'm not sure I'm going by that house ever again... I will really miss those walks. We talk about our stories and life, the universe and everything. Also, they're a good way to at least pretend I'm walking off a few of the endless number of cookies I have eaten over these five weeks.

Now bed. First, quotes.

This one from when we were out driving the other day, on our way to whereever.

Me: Where does this road go?

Peeko: To our doom. Let's go.

This one as we were driving with the Commodore to a book store and were passed by an Evil Truck (long story to explain that one) and someone remarked that evil is fast.

Dundee: Evil doesn't have to be fast. Evil is the tortoise. It's inevitable.

And finally a pic. This should have been posted in the last post, but I forgot. From the Friday night barbecue:

Darth Narcomancer, resident Odyssey Sith Lord

Saran wrap

There are people around me with blue saran wrap around their feet. I shit you not.

We had a barbecue today. Burgers, hot dogs, pineapple (yes, on the grill). And strawberries and raspberries (not on the grill). Then we had tons of cupcakes. The latter to say thanks to Gary Braunbeck and celebrate that Werefox Ninja got a two novel deal today. We all cheered for her. And hate her.

One week left. A week of talking about the business end of things. We will have editor John Joseph Adams as a guest, which will be cool. The lecturers so far have all spoken a bit about the business, but now we'll get to listen to someone firmly from that side.

Peeko and I went to the Mexican place for lunch. Luxury lunch! Then on to Newbury Comics where I bought some more blind assortment Kid Robot figures. I got Zoidberg! Woop woop woop!

We also stopped at the Army store I mentioned in an earlier post. They had some cool stuff, like clothes from 5.11 Tactical and some other stuff. I have two shirts from 5.11, and want more. They only had longsleeves, though, so I bought nothing.

I turned to walk out, and saw one of these on a podium:

Who buys a battering ram?!?!?!

I just realised I broke my timeline now. I did a flashback. A no-no. Damn it. Hopefully Evil Overlord isn't reading this...

Right now, brainstorming session. And some bourbon. I am floating an idea about a girl that talks to a well. The madmen and -women here have given me a lot of good ideas. It looks like it'll be an old-school fairytale. Cool.

Brainstorm

Thursday night. No. It's Friday now. Last day of the second to last week of Odyssey. Such a weird feeling. I've been here five weeks and they have gone by so fast. At the same time it feels like I've been away for months.

Today Gary Braunbeck guided us through alternative methods for building story and plot. He usually starts with an image.

A woman walks into a restaurant. She takes off her coat and lays it on the chair across from her, smoothing it down so it is draped in the contour of a man. Her wedding ring sits on her right index finger. As she sits down with the menu her hands are shaking.

Who is she? What is she doing there?

We came up with five or six scenarios, including spies, secret codes, fairies, shapeshifters, aliens, etc. Gary then mashed all these together and came up with a story that had elements of many genres but didn't truly belong in any one.

Forget genre! Focus on story! Our new mantra.

At this point the Djinni pointed out that maybe we were feeding Gary the plot to his next novel. From the look on his face this might actually be true.

Our crits were done quickly today. Then I got a severe case of cabin fever, and had to get out. The Commodore was kind enough to arrange a trip to Barnes & Noble, so off we went, Meta, Barbecue Man, Dundee and I. I bought two books and copies of a few magazines that publish short fiction, including Asimov's, where I will send my alien sf story.

After the bookstore I shaved my head. Now in mohawk mode, aided by the able hands of Djinni and Sarah Palin. Well...I just noticed it's off center, so maybe not so capable...

Then I attended the daily brainstorming sessions held in one of the apartments in the other house. Very interesting, to sit and throw out plot ideas and then have then torn apart and/or enhanced by all participants.

I floated my latest novel idea, about members of the Varangian Guard becoming involved in a plot to throw the Eastern Roman Empire and its capital Constantinople into chaos. This is just a loose idea at the moment, but I want to set it sometime between 900 and 1200 AD, and stay away from anything having to do with the Crusades. I want to focus on internal conflict in the Roman Empire and the arrival of dark powers in the city of Constantinople.

My fellow Odysseyians gave me some good input. I will intend more brainstorming sessions the coming week.

If I were to seriously focus on writing this novel, I would have to spend months and months doing research, which sounds kind of fun, so I might just start doing that when I come home. So many things to research.

What do you think? Would a viking story set in Constantinople, focused on politics, war and sorcery, be interesting?

Bad horror story plot 101

Woman. Boob. Knife. Blood. End. - Gary Braunbeck

Long Night

I've had two long nights these past two, since I haven't been able to sleep because my bedroom is so muggy (yes, Erin, this will be another post where I rant about heat). Our apartment must have some major design flaw, since the others are nice and cool when the temperature drops in the evening. Not ours, no no no.

Right now it's sort of fine, at least in the livingroom where I am now. It's raining, so I'm hoping for a cool night. That's a win. The fail? I had left my windows open when we went to dinner tonight, so my bed is wet. D'oh.

Gary Braunbeck has been lecturing for us this week, and it's been really interesting. The subjects so far have been dialogue, subtext and emotional realism. He has 25 years experience as a writer, and has a lot of knowledge on the subject of writing.

What's easy to forget in a situation like this, with so many people offering excellent advice on various tools for writing and aspects of the industry, is that these things don't work for everyone. These are not truths we are being told, but rather an opinion on something born out years of experience. Each writer has their own truth. I need to find mine.

What has really stood out from Gary's lectures, so far, is this:

- Forget about genre. Concentrate on telling a story. Genre will emerge. Beginning with genre will limit you.

- Always ask the next question. When creating a character, begin with a question. What does he have in his pockets? Then keep asking, depending on what the answer is. Do this enough, and you will have a complete character. Ask until you reach an answer that has absolutely no relevance to the story.

- Give your antagonist/villain an emotional core. Something that shows why he is not a villain in his own eyes. This creates an emotional gray area, and enables you to steer away from the monologuing, moustache-twirling bad guy.

- What is lacking in genre fiction is a writer's trust in his readers to recognize subtext. Assume you're not writing for morons. Don't explain everything.

On Monday, I had a private critique with Gary on my story The Long Night. It has Vikings, werewolves and a bad-ass sorceress. Right now she is kinda moustache-twirling, unfortunately. But it's only the second draft, so things may change.

He really liked the story. A great ego boost. He had some minor suggestions for things I should change, and then listed a few places where he thought I could get it published. Sweet! So now I have two stories that two different authors have put their seal of approval on. Priority one when I get back home is polishing these stories and then sending them out.

Last night, I was over at the other house, writing, because it was cooler there. Well, not so much writing as goofing around and talking about our stories. In the midst of it, Narcomancer comes out of her room, looking exhausted. The following was said:

Palin: Do you need a hug?

Narcomancer: I need a new brain.

And on the same subject (sort of). The Commodore informed us about Friday night's cookout and said:

The Commodore: There's a slight chance of rain.

Werefox Ninja: Brain?

The Commodore: Yes. Brain is in season now. We could harvest some of that college student brain.

Pics galore 2

Yay for pictures!

Peeko the Elf deep in thought during the slam.

Also at the slam. Left to right. California, Tomatoes,

Werefox Ninja, Barbecue Man, Sarah Palin, Alaska

Birthday cake time. Meta, Harp, Pygmy Dragon

Peeko giving me the "not in a gay way look."

Palin is busy doing photo acrobatics.

The Commodore did not like the camera.

Pygmy Dragon found this funny.

Evil Overlord to the left, Djinni to the right.

Mid pic, far away: Peeko's elven chariot.

Second take of this pic. Why?

Barbecue Man wanted to suck his gut in.

Which he proceeded to do. Ever so subtly.

The Commodore with her pet dragon.

Pygmy Dragon was not intimidated.

Evil Overlord with the bowl from

which we draw slips for our games.

On a path near the monastery, there is a representation

of the Via Dolorosa, with each station depicted like this.

An eerie place at night.

The night time walk crew. Palin, Meta, Alaska, Peeko.

Can you tell who has the biggest head?

Alaska, Peeko, Palin. Two posing, one just goofin' around

And . . . smile!

Yeah. Goofin' around.

Not in a gay way

Sunday night. Tired. Warm. But in a good mood.

I was killed in the write-athon on Friday night. K I L L E D. I wrote 1100 words, which ain't bad. Palin poured out 1900 words. So now I owe her a cookie. I have been pondering a "double or nothing" kind of thing.

Earlier in the week, Peeko the Elf (previously known as Charley Horse) went on a scouting mission and found us another comic bookstore and an Indian restaurant. So yesterday we went, Peeko, Meta, Palin, Barbecue and I.

Newbury Comics turned out not to be much of a comic book store, with only one corner of actual comic books. They did however have a large selection of action figures, tees and other merch from various pop culture franchises, as well as well-stocked shelves off both CDs and DVDs. I could have spent all my money.

I bought a bunch of blind assortment Kid Robot figures from The Simpsons, Futurama and Family Guy. They turned out to be Bender, Groundskeeper Willie, Patty, Bender again, and this guy:

Best. Action figure. Ever.

Death, from Family Guy. A whopping 3 inches tall.

I also bought various knick-knacks for friends, the new This Will Destroy You album (mind-blowing), The Acacia Stain's "Wormwood", a Decepticon sticker and some more geeky stuff. We're going back there this coming week. I want to buy more Kid Robot figures. I want Zoidberg!

The Indian place turned out to be really good, so we're definitely going back there. There's also an Army surplus store around there that I want to check out.

So. Maybe a word or two about writing, since that's why I'm here.

My post-apocalyptic fantasy story turned out to be an apocalyptic story. As in it takes place during the apocalypse. The world ends. It wasn't planned. It just happened, and carried me with it. Go where the story goes.

Over the past four weeks we've learned a lot of techniques around writing. During my learning period I will focus on a few of these techniques for each story. For the fantasy story I have focused on consistent point of view (especially challenging since I am using a different point of view character than the protagonist), a solid three act structure, submitting a story that's below 6000 words in length and without a synopsis, and writing a swordfight. I think (hope) I will accomplish all four.

I have also started on something else, which I may or may not finish. I have several options for my last story. If all else fails and I run out of time I can always submit the werewolf story to the class as well.

Doing the crits today, I realised just how much this class is improving people's writing. I hope others see the same kind of evolution in my writing. Today I've read one story about a female merc in the aftermath of a bloody battle, one about a plush Cthulhu doll (Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!) and one dark fantasy Western. All three really good, all three enough to make me doubt my own writing skills as well as find immense inspiration. One of the weirdest combos of emotions, and one that keeps coming back when faced with the texts of others.

Today horror author Gary Braunbeck arrived. He will be our writer in residence for the whole coming week. He will hold lectures every day, do critiques all week long and hold private meetings with a few students, including me. I sent him my werewolf Viking story, "The Long Night", last week. I expect him to tear it apart and I expect I will learn a lot from that.

We held the reception for him tonight. He was funny, open and had good insights. I am really looking forward to this week.

We've been on a few nightly walks. I declined a midnight walk twenty minutes ago, because I wanted to write and then sleep. Palin's answer? Sleep is for babies and dead people. My reply? And for large Swedish bearded men.

After the reception we went to a pizza place. As we were finishing up, a big bearded guy walks up to our table and says to me:

"Not in a gay way, but I was watching you from across the room, and you emote really well." O . . . K . . ?

He went on to explain that he was an actor who just got a part in an independent movie, and he thought my facial expressions were particularly interesting for his character. While he was telling me this, he managed to get the phrase "Not in a gay way" in two or three more times.

Finally he asked for my number ("Not in a gay way") so we maybe could talk about it. I told him the sad truth that I would only be here two more weeks, and later back to Sweden. He looked sad, and we left.

So now I've been hit on by a guy. Wohoo! Ego boost! Because no way was that simply about my facial expressions. Hilarious. And props to the guy for actually having the courage to come up and talk.

Somewhere in all this the nickname Fjordface was applied to me by Meta. I can't even remember how or when.

Finally, a quote from Mr Braunbeck:

If I see one more zombie novel I'm going to put my head in a propeller.

Peeko turned kind of pale at this, since the short story Braunbeck is critiquing in private with him has a reanimated corpse in it. The results of that crit shall be very interesting.

Catharsis

Week four of Odyssey is over. I've been here four weeks. It feels surreal. There are times when I stop and wonder what the hell I'm doing here. How did this happen? How did I end up here? And why?

The last question is one I can answer, without having to dig deep. I am here because I have to write. There are worlds in my head that need to get out, and if I didn't commit them to paper/harddrive/whatever I think I would go insane. There are things that need to come out.

All the things that have happened to you, to me, good or bad, can be used to channel emotion into writing, and in doing so, I am convinced that we come closer and closer to coming to terms with whatever heavy shit we have sloshing around inside.

I am still far too close to the things that went on over the past year to write about them, but I'm still carrying other things around that need to be purged. If there's one thing therapy has taught me it's that we, and particularly I, bottle up things far longer than what is healthy.

So. I started on a piece today called November. I have no idea if I'll be able to finish it, or if I will have the courage to show it to the class if I do.

If I do finish it, I'll be dedicating it to Henrik (R.I.P. Vaffanculo!) and Misha (all my love, my bearded friend). If I don't, at least I'll have tried.

when i see me in your eyes

i just want to go blind

when i build coffin worlds with words

i just want a place to hide

when old ghosts meet new regrets

my daylight fades to grey

when our days bring guilt and shame

my heart turns black

these are my tombs

painted black and blue

these are my tombs

painted

just for you

goodnight

goodnight dear

goodbye

black rose

be my light

in the darkness of nights

be my heart

- Converge, Grim Heart/Black Rose

Bears, moose and other creatures

Stomach...full...of...burgers...

We just had our weekly barbecue. Well, it's been pizza twice because of rain, but tonight we barbecued. And ate strawberries with insane amounts of whipped cream. Nom nom nom.

Yesterday we talked about publishing. How we need to create a business person next to our writer person and editor person, so be able to separate the art of writing from the business of getting published. Evil Overlord, having worked as an editor at Bantam Doubleday Dell, has great insights into the publishing world.

My business persona will be called Kecke, and will work at a very informal office where suit and tie are not required. Upon my return to Sweden, he will start researching markets for my stories, and list the various magazines, websites and other markets according to genre and importance. Once I have a story ready it goes to the first, most desirable market for that type of story. If they don't buy it, on to number two. And so on.

Embrace your rejections, Overlord said. Keep them in a drawer. She gave examples of Odyssey grads that had gotten well over 100 rejections before they sold a story. The lesson here is to keep at it, keep at it, keep at it. Over 50 percent of Odyssey graduates go on to be published. Those that don't are those that give up, for whatever reason.

Last night, another late night walk. It's nice to get out of the apartment, if only to walk around campus. One of the campus security guards informed us that we might meet moose. Two moose had been caught on the security cameras the night before, in the baseball field. Eating? Practicing? No one knows.

Saw some more fireflies. So cool.

Today Elizabeth Bear was our guest lecturer. She lectured on plot structure, from the Aristotelean structure (inciting incident, crisis, conclusion, everything usually takes place in one place and in a very narrow window of time) to the epic structure (different characters and thematic arcs are intertwined and overlapping, there's always something going on for someone or something cathartic for someone else). It was very interesting, and especially so when we, as a group, created three Hollywood movie structures in less than 20 minutes

The best one:

A horror movie. Peter the plumber has to choose between his prized pumpkins and his son, while a goblin attempts to steal the pumpkins and turn the son into a pumpkin creature. In the end, Peter prevails against the goblin and chooses his son over the pumpkins (the Satisfying Ending). "I will never ignore you for a pumpkin patch again," he sobs as he hugs his son. After the credits, Peter walks through his garden, planting squash.

Quote of the day, related to the above:

Elizabeth: So we have Peter, a plumber who eats pumpkins. What's his problem?

Dundee: Alliteration.

In thirty minutes I will arm myself with laptop and headphones and head over to the other house for a write-athon. Whoever writes the most in an hour wins. I trounced Sarah Palin the other night, with 1100 words against her 600. Yeah! So I'm confident. Which probably means I'm going down in flames. We shall see.

Why is it late?

This was supposed to have been posted last night, but Blogger was giving me attitude, so here goes.

0110. I have no idea why I am up this late. The crits took a lot longer than ever, and I feel like I have nothing to say. I've tried to get to grips with a swordfight in my fantasy story, and it doesn't feel right no matter how much I twist and turn it.

So I give up for now. It's nice and cool outside, and with two windows wide open I have enough air in here to be able to sleep now.

First, a quick recap of our day. Still talking about style in the lectures, continuing about weakness in style and then on to techniques to strengthen style. We learned that "it was" and "there was" are evil, and should be exterminated, and we talked about why you should put the important stuff in the beginning and end and not the middle of a sentence (it's because us lazy readers only really pay attention at those points). And lots of other stuff.

I finally managed to get a pic of a chipmunk

I slept for an hour after class. I don't get the people that stay up until 0300, writing. How come they're not absolute zombies? Sarah Palin sat up all night today. Not a moment of sleep. She was in class, all smiles. They must have some really groovy drugs over in the other house.

Oh yeah. The house. This is Falvey House, where I'm staying. Two apartments upstairs, housing the five male students in the class, two downstairs housing three of the girls/women and the Commodore.

College housing in all its glory

We took another late night walk. Saw some more fireflies, dancing in the tops of trees. So cool. And we took a stroll to the cemetary, where the monks are laid to rest (we think). Eerie place in the dark.

As we walked back, Charley remarked: I can't believe we haven't made a late night food run.

And it's true. We have been far too efficient when it comes to keeping snacks in the house. This has to change. We need more of a college feeling. Studying like crazy and going out at midnight to buy donuts and coffee. And here's the pathetic part. We will plan it. Yeah. We're adults now.

We have lots of laughs in our apartment, something which isn't always good when it comes to productivity. The following quotes are connected, but were uttered days apart.

Charlie: I love it when it becomes too much for Meta and he puts on his headphones to shut me out. It gives me such a sense of pride.

Meta: And eventually, if you don't stop, I will keep my headphones on while I choke you.

Not that it's that bad. Yet. But it is funny though.

In bed. And fireflies.

In class today we talked about grammar. Punctuation, that vs which, the evils of adverbs, dialogue tags, etc.

Can you believe it, Mom? Me? Talking about adverbs? And not cringing? Well . . . I cringed a little (and right there, before I, is the correct way to use ellipsis. See? I learned something today).

After class and the obligatory visit to the mail room (three packages. All for me! Yay! From Amazon! Yay!) we went to the reading room to do our crits. The reading room is my friend. The reading room is cool. Cold, even. I had to put on a hoodie in there today.

Later today I went to the Taqueria in Manchester with Meta, Charley and Sarah Palin. Much laughter and an awesome burrito. Me likey! Then off to Target to buy food, ink cartridges, etc. I bought a pair of shorts, since I only brought two pairs, and a Where The Wild Things Are-tee. Sweet.

And then write. I am writing a postapocalyptic fantasy story. Sort of. My goal is to have it be around 4000, maybe 5000 words. Our limit is 6000 and I would like to turn in a story to the class that doesn't require a synopsis for the parts I can't turn in. We'll see how it goes. I managed 2000 words today. Which is good.

I have two stories left to turn in. My intention is to use this new one and a revised version of Something Wicked, my submission story. One is due next Friday and the second one the last week, hopefully Wednesday. We'll see. So I have a long time to finish two stories but little time once one is submitted.

I ended the evening with a short walk with Sarah Palin, to get some air. We saw fireflies! I've never seen fireflies before. I really understand why people thought they were fairies.

The other night we went for Chinese food. Barbecue Man had identified a good place, and it was really good. Unfortunately they didn't offer Dim Sum (I wanted dumplings!) the time we were there. And unfortunately I can't remember between which hours they do serve dumplings, so I'll probably miss it the next time we go too. D'oh.

Anywho. The first time we went for Chinese I learned that one must add a little something to the fortune in the cookie. I forgot to tell you people, of course. You add "in bed" at the end. Hence my fortune, this time, was "You have a quiet and unobtrusive nature. In bed."

So now off to be unobtrusive in bed. I will leave you with some quotes:

From Meta:

Conjunctions for the win!

From Sarah Palin, after the car ride to the Taqueria and Target:

All sorts of weird stuff are going to show up in my story because you guys traumatized me.

And from Mr Stephen King:

The road to hell is paved with adverbs.

Pics galore

Some pics. Beacuse sometimes words don't say it all. And this is coming from a writer.

The main administrative building at the college.

Originally a monastery. The clock tower is still there,

to the right, and tolls several times a day.

St Anselm of Canterbury, namesake of the college.

A Swede. Beard attempting some sort of flanking action on the left.

An average road on the campus. It's a nice green campus.

Plenty of chipmunks, though the little critters won't pose for a pic.

Barbecue Man doing what he does, and Charley Horse.

Barbecue Man, Dundee and Meta.

Meta and Charley Horse, caught in a lovely food pose.

As Yet Unnamed and Alaska.

No one is really sure what happened here...

The whole merry barbecue bunch.

Dessert, Odyssey style.

Saturday slam!

Every year, Odyssey holds a slam at the Barnes & Noble bookstore in Nashua, New Hampshire. Odyssey students stand up in the coffee shop part of the store and read a story no longer than five minutes in length.

So off we went. Five of us in Charley Horse's car. For some reason we had hand-written directions on a piece of paper instead of using one of the smartphones along in the car. We didn't get lost, really, we just weren't sure of where we were...

Barbecue Man whipped out his phone. Tap, tap, tap. Turn here. Go here. After a while, it dawned on us that we were in a holding pattern. Round and round we went. Which wasn't that strange, we realised. Barbecue Man is a retired air traffic controller. Holding patterns is what he does.

This lovely exchange took place.

Dundee: We're going the right way. I remember trees.

Barbecue Man: Yeah. There was also an oxygen nitrate atmosphere.

But we arrived in time. We had time for lunch before the slam, and ate at a micro brewery pub in Nashua. I had a killer lobster stuffed haddock with scallops. Nom nom nom.

Then off to the bookstore. Walked around in the store for a while. Bought some stuff. And then did the slam. There were some former Odyssey graduates there, and some people that had actually come to listen. Wow. So we read our stories. Commodore (formerly known as Assistant Teacher) and Evil Overlord (formerly known as Teacher) also read a text each, which was cool. We haven't heard anything from them before.

I suck at writing flash fiction. So I was in awe of some of the stories that were read. In awe. There are some hideously creative people here. A source of endless inspiration and angst.

Afterwards we learned that the slam had been broadcast on the store PA. So everyone heard our texts. Even in the bathrooms appearantly. Commodore tried the innocent act, but we all know she knew. Curse her and her puppet dragon!

And then the quote of the day.

Charley: They don't celebrate birthdays in Sweden.

Sarah Palin: That's because they all come out of rocks.

Thanks, Sarah. Really.