I waited too long to do a few updates and so now I have a slew of bragatorium to invoke.

“Black Cow,” a sparse dash of literary flash was placed at The Blue Bear Review, available today, June 1st. I love this piece and, though it had been subbed several times, I knew eventually I’d find the right home for it. Logging so many miles back and forth to Montana last year, I saw a lot of striking things, among them a white horse grazing a burnt hillside and a black cow sitting on her haunches, looking to the sky. I hope the imagery is as strong for the reader as it was for me.

Next, I sold a genre piece to the general market The First Line. This story almost wrote itself. We’d met a friend from out of town for dinner and we ended up discussing, of all things, catfish noodling. And though the story is less about catfish noodling than the power of women and song and the determination of a young girl, “A Girl Called Blue” does indeed feature catfish noodlers. The summer issue should be out mid-June.

I wailed and gnashed my teeth for much of winter because I couldn’t sell any of my genre work and the universe was apparently tired of my whining. Not only did I offload “A Girl Called Blue,” as I mentioned, two more pieces sold to exciting anthologies.

The first, is a derivative of Song Story Press‘s series of speculative work inspired by music. I had my eye on their anthologies for some time and when they put out a call for Song Stories: Blaze of Glory I knew it was finally time to write a story about “Horse With No Name.” I’ve never written anything that long so quickly. It has a cinematic and almost dreamlike quality. The story was uncooperative and I didn’t have time to put it through my normal editing processes, but I think because the story emerged so assertively in the end, it hopefully carried what must have been a few errata. I can’t wait for the book to come out later this year.

Secondly, “For Want of a Unicorn” is forthcoming from Evil Girlfriend Media‘s Witches, Stitches, & Bitches. I’m not sure how much of the antho will be humor, but “For Want” is a silly fairy tale with a happy ending. I tried to pack it full of bright imagery and funny and light and I’m glad they took it, as it’s hard to sub that sort of thing these days. EGM is hitting the ground running with their three new ventures and I can’t wait to see the finished product.

xo

One of the best parts of writing is the people you meet while you’re doing it. If someone asks me how long I’ve been writing, I’ll qualify my answer by saying that, as a full time profession, it’s only been two years.

I’ve been writing since I was nine or so — not well, of course, but I was a generative artist. My first book, Melinda Morgan, concerned a young Texan named Melinda who plotted alongside her sister to secure a horse who later turned out to be a Pegasus. “She had many exciting adventures with him.” Sadly, things didn’t end very well for Melinda.

There were countless stories after that. There were characters inspired by my friends and my favorite band, ABBA, mystery, romance, comedy, and a plagiarization of Julie of the Wolves re-illustrated with found objects.

In High School, tired of passing notes the old fashioned way, Besty Friend and I would write each other fairy tales about our crushes and people we hated and what had happened during Trig. I still have half of them though I sent half back to her when she was dealing with a nasty divorce. The collection is sort of like our own friendship necklace, but better.

It was around that time that I joined the newspaper staff as a news editor. I ran a section with my good friend Lana and we even won some sort of award for layout in our senior year. When I graduated and learned that college editors and writers actually got paid, I thought I’d gone to heaven. Starting as a staff writer, I progressed to editor my freshman year marveling at the spare thirty bucks I now had to spend on coffee (yeah, that’s what I spent it on). I wrote for the PR office, as well. I wrote for the lit mag. I wrote for the liberal newspaper. I wrote for the conservative newspaper. I wrote for anyone who would take me.

But back to the paper. I brought it up because I had the pleasure of reconnecting with one of the Editors-in-Chief of the old Collage. It took us a minute to knock the rust off the memories of 1996, but she’s still an editor — *my editor* — and I still can’t wait to work for her.

It’s one of those universal truths in life that goodness, even if it takes its time, comes back around to you. If you’re kind and nurturing and creative and inspirational, it’s easy to have people who want to be in your corner. I’m not an editor yet, just a reader and a critiquer and a writer, but I’m watching because someday I will be an editor and I want to learn all I can from the “goods.”

It’s rare to run into the “bads,” though they’re out there. A magazine I’d written for several times rejected a story about a friendship between a woman and a unicorn telling me that I had invoked some sort of bestiality. The story was an allegory of when I lost my beloved dog Wynnie and it’s possible I am too close to see his point rationally. Not only was I crushed that he had totally missed the point of the story, I was more upset that he hadn’t given me the benefit of the doubt. Even with the strength of my previous work, he’d dismissed me as some sort of a hack. I’m sure he didn’t mean it to be painful. Offhanded comments can sometimes hurt people because we have no idea where their sore spots are. But it will be a long time — if ever — before I’m able to put any of my work in that market’s hands again.

And then there are the goods. Editors you would walk over the sun for — editors who care about your work as carefully as they would their own. Editors who you sub to over an over again or beg to work for just so that you can have avail yourself to more of their time. Editors who remember you even after so many long years. Editors who promote your pieces. Editors who believe in you.

I have more than my share of those in my life and I count myself ridiculously fortunate.

There are lots of things to update you on soon — anthologies and stories and essays and writing groups and conferences, oh my!

But instead, I want to tell you about the (swell of orchestral music) *Movies*! The lovely Wendy Russ offered me a chance to review the movie reboot of one of my least favorite books, The Great Gatsby and I jumped at the chance. I’d been anxious to see the movie because I thought the lush, lurid world illustrated by Fitzgerald would lend itself well to the screen and who better to aggregate such grandeur than Baz Luhrmann. In preparation, Adam and I both picked up the book again. We went to the fancy theater to get the best crowd reactions and then had dive Mexican food and recounted everything we loved and hated. The fruit of that labor can be read here. Join our discussion, please — there, here, or on social media.

Sometimes, in life’s crazy road trip, the accelerator pedal gets stuck and you have a little trouble catching up with yourself. I’ve been having one of those weeks, where I feel like Yakety Sax should be playing on a loop.

I attended a writing retreat from last Thursday through Sunday morning in Port Townsend. Lots of wine was enjoyed and great conversations were had, but thanks to a migraine and a general lack of discipline, I didn’t get a lot done. I returned home yesterday to frantically prepare for out of town guests who ended up needing time and transportation I hadn’t quite budgeted correctly for. After dropping them off at the airport I raced home to intercept a mattress delivery, flying in and out of Whole Paycheck to secure *something* for dinner. I have six loads of laundry in progress, no beds made, a fridge full of useless food, oh, and did I mention, I haven’t done any meaningful quantity of work in several days. I finally sat down to catch up on emails when a gent across the street began testing his car stereo in his driveway. I hope everyone else in the neighborhood is enjoying the rap version of “Hard Knock Life,” as it isn’t quite my cuppa.

But despite my first world problems (ie getting out of my own damn way), I have good news. First, I have a new gig. I’ve been waiting for a long time to volunteer to slush, read, sleuth, and opine for a magazine, but figured I’ve been dragging my feet to find “the right one.” There are lots of great magazines, of course, but I think, ideally, one wants to be able to learn something from the process and the people you’re working with. After corresponding with the management over at The Lascaux Review post flash contest, I thought to myself, these people seem to understand me and I bet I can learn a lot from them. I threw a shameless amalgam of self promotion in their direction and am proud to say I’ll be serving as a reader. I’ll say now that if you haven’t yet visited The Lascaux Review, you should. You might even think about submitting yourself. I’ll be on the lookout for fiction, poetry, and essays from writers new and old to introduce to my new team, so if you’ve recently found something you think I should know about, please share.

Secondly, I have a small piece in the Issue #06 of the Vine Leaves Literary Journal. I originally wrote this piece as an entry for a one-sentence story anthology. And while I know several of the folks who made it into said project, the editors felt that my submission was not a story because things were happening around the protagonist instead of the protagonist moving through a narrative. I’m still puzzling that out in my brain, but because the story is told through imagery and flashbacks, I thought it might be a good fit at Vine Leaves and I’m ecstatic they picked it up. I loved working with the one sentence constraint. I suppose I should avoid this tendency toward “trick writing,” but its something that I certainly love experimenting with. On a side note, I don’t know why I keep writing about horrible accidents involving cars. I wrote this and the piece for the Lascaux Flash contest several months apart, but clearly I must have been working through some sort of mental hurdle. Regardless, I’m in great company in this issue and I adore the illustration by Otha “Vaskeen” Davis III, whose work you can find more of here.

xo

First, I have super duper awesome rainbow sparkle glitter news. Remember a couple posts ago when I announced my lucky #13 contest entry over at Lascaux Flash?

Like all of the entrants, I’d impatiently waited for the finalists to be announced. I didn’t envy the judge’s task of reading through 283 entries, sorting them, thinking about them, and then discussing them with other folks who would undoubtedly have different perspectives. I really hoped to be a finalist, but with numbers like these, it was unlikely. And I was definitely might have been having a little bit of a pity party for myself.

And so when I checked the Lascaux Flash site this morning and saw that the winners had been announced, I took a deep breath and began scrolling. “Self,” I said, looking through the list of finalists. “Don’t feel bad. You knew it was a long shot. You saw scads and scads of stories that deserved to win.” I scrolled some more. Underneath the list of finalists was the gold medal and beside it, I read, “Winner: #13 Camille Griep: Circumstances.”

I’ve never subscribed to the nonsense about doors closing and windows opening (seems like a good excuse to hire a contractor) but it was just last Friday that I was sobbing into my Chardonnay over my annual Clarion West rejection along side the usual weekly story rejections.

We all go through periods where we aren’t sure where we fit in, if we fit in, how we fit in. The solution for me has always been to keep writing. When you do, you open yourself up to those magical moments like I found with this story. Circumstances and all of its characters came to me because I waited for it. I wrote until it surfaced and I edited and scrubbed and tweaked and fussed. And then I tried to put it in a place where it would be understood. I couldn’t be prouder of its final destination and the company it keeps. Cheers. xo

A long time ago, a friend of mine told me that romance succeeded not only because of love and hard work, but because of the right timing. Back then, I believed that love was another beast entirely — one made of magic and glitter and beating hearts and poet blouses. These days, I subscribe not only to his theory, but to expanding it to apply to almost all relationships and opportunities.

I spent Wednesday night through Sunday morning of last week in Quinault, Washington at the Rainforest Writers Village Retreat. I knew a couple of writers who were going and had met a couple of the presenters. I didn’t know anyone well. Because both conferences I’d attended the previous years were not my best social experiences, I vowed to do a few things differently.

Viable Paradise taught me that, as a group, we writers tend to be introverts. Hardly anyone bats an eye when you tell a group of writers that too much is going on, that you need to slip away for a bit, that you’ve hit a wall. So instead of pushing my way through the experience, I listened to my own needs. This left me with more than enough energy to write 20,000 (!) words and make a lot of new friends. And not just acquaintances — people who I will continue to strive to keep in my life on a regular basis, despite distance.

I also dropped my assumptions about everyone. I erased my preconcieved notions and allowed myself to get to know people I never would have approached. I didn’t assume people remembered me and I tried not to assume they’d forgotten me. I approached people and chatted with them until it was clear that I shouldn’t — I didn’t simply assume they didn’t want to talk to me. I met everyone at the retreat personally and I can’t wait to learn what every one of them will do next — regardless of their current level.

If you have the opportunity to attend Rainforest, I can’t recommend it enough. The programming is light and optional, but discussion based. There aren’t a lot of big egos around, either. The presenters and ‘veterans’ of the group treated everyone like peers. It wasn’t to say that there weren’t differing opinions on just about everything imaginable, but it was a group full of respect and intelligence and unmitigated talent. I’m privileged to have these folks in my life and an annual event with which to share our vocations.

More info here.

Over at Lascaux Flash, I’m contestant lucky number 13 in their annual contest. Stop by at this link here and share your thoughts. If you go to the main site, you can read all the entries and give feedback and support to other writers. There’s also time to enter yourself!

I just arrived at my humble space at the Rainforest Village Writers Retreat. I love it here. It’s exactly as you’d picture it. Soft and mossy and damp and perfect.

Thanks, as always, for visiting.

One year ago, I was busy putting words on paper but was only starting to meet other writers. I remember my first Clarion West one-day workshop. I was ridiculously nervous (imposter syndrome) and, I fear, terribly unsociable. And that continued to varying degrees for some time. I’d walk out of a class wondering why everyone else had made friends except for me. All I needed to do was look in a mirror — think outside of myself for a moment. Everyone in the room with me was feeling the same way, they just dug up a little more courage.

My writing network is strong and full of interesting and talented people who I highly respect. Twitter makes a great writing water cooler and I kick myself for my hesitancy to get on the bandwagon. Furthermore, I’ve got a critique group and a writing group that assist me in motivation, progress, and improvement.

The writing group is particularly special. It’s a group of six unique women writers who share experience and support and honest critique in a dynamic I’ve only been lucky enough to experience a few times in my life. I’ll hold on to that like hell because I know groups like these are lightening in a bottle for most writers.

I’m looking forward to attending the Rainforest Writers Village Retreat next week over on the Peninsula and meeting several writers who I’ve chatted with online but have not met. I’m looking forward to great discussions and intense writing time away from my blasted cell phone, which won’t work in the middle of the forest. I hear there are swans there. And squid who live in trees. But I’m far more excited about the swans.

March also brings a resurgence of published pieces (and a big fat pending submissions queue). Next week, I’ll be up at Treehouse Magazine with my experimental piece of recipe fiction hybrid “From the Kitchen of Helena Wilson.” Later that week, I’ll be featured in their “5 Things” series on the parallels between cooking and writing. On March 18th, I’ll be up at Every Day Fiction with my flash piece “One Night in Bangkok,” commissioned for the 2012 Clarion West Write-a-thon by my partner’s sister, Sara. I’ll also be eagerly awaiting my application to Clarion West itself — a long shot, but an opportunity to study with some amazing mentors and superlative peers.

See you when I get back from visiting the world’s largest spruce.

Happy 2013! I’m starting off the year in the best way, by celebrating a number of pieces published over the past week.

Yesterday, Every Day Fiction re-issued “My Girl,” my paean to an old car, in podcast format. Today, they published my first flash piece of last year, “Krug,” which is the story of a woman who has given up, crawled inside of her own emotions, and confronts her own logic in the process.

Also, I’m humbled to be on the roster of writers at Bound Off Literary Audio Magazine this month. My piece, “Smote,” is the second of two stories rounding out their January podcast. It’s a story about the politics of Heaven, bitter and sweet. I had trouble finding the right home for it, but I’m so glad that it landed here. To be among writers such as Cat Rambo and Mary Robinette Kowal is indeed an honor.

Last week, I also led off the English to English Theme section for Short, Fast, & Deadly with my pieces “The Great Divide” and “Good Neighbors.” They are “translated” from the works of Robert Frost and though they’re short, they’re quite close to my heart.

Now it’s back to work on that novel, though I’m still keeping a stable of stories out there in the submission world. Thanks, as always, for reading.