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C. G. Waters [userpic]

Chick Lit ::

January 27th, 2011 (02:37 pm)
& : peckish

Lately, I’m stressed out about work, so I’m not up for reading anything dark or violent--which disqualifies a lot of my usual choices since they tend toward crime and horror.

Kath has been invaluable in helping me choose what to read. A couple weeks ago she gave me Jen Lancaster’s My Fair Lazy and said she’d never heard me giggle* so much while reading. I’ve never read chick lit** before -- not because I had anything against chick lit, just because I was unfamiliar with it and always had plenty other things to read -- but I’m enjoying the hell out of it, and K is helping me keep well supplied.

The other evening I was trying to explain how Edith Wharton isn’t taxing for me to read, even right now.*** Kath hasn’t particularly read Wharton, so I went into Wharton’s sharp, but neither heartless nor humorless insight into the high society of Old New York.

This led to my following summary of The House of Mirth:

Lily is a socialite who’s getting up in years (by 1905 standards) and needs to land a husband before she runs out of time and money.

Door number one: She’d like to marry this wishy-washy lawyer named Selden, but because he’s not rich he doesn’t think he can have her.

Door number two: Percy is rich but conservative, boring, and easily shocked.

Door number three: Rosedale is beyond rich and needs her social graces to break into society; however, he’s déclassé -- a Jewish banker.

Meanwhile, her best friend’s husband “invested” her money, which is his usual first step in “seducing” young vulnerable women --

Kath: So Wharton is Candace Bushnell.

Me: ...so, I need to read Candace Bushnell, don’t I?


The end of the book is fairly depressing -- and veers from what you’ll see in Candace Bushnell -- but it’s also true for the time... and yeah, I’m coming back to this subject in a few days.



...

*I’m pretty sure I never used to giggle before we were together, but that’s another post.

**I have more to say about chick lit, but that’s also another post (or three).

***Well, having a background in American Lit is a factor.

C. G. Waters [userpic]

Geography is complicated

January 12th, 2011 (04:52 pm)
& : it's good natured bitching!

Yes, one thing you do plenty of in L.A. is drive.

That said, K and I make our home along a very pedestrian stretch of the Ventura corridor, which furthers the argument that Studio City and Sherman Oaks along Ventura Blvd. are part of Los Angeles, rather than part of the Valley.

Which explains why I bitch (good naturedly) about driving out to fucking Burbank whenever we have to go to Target.

K, quite reasonably: "That's the price of living in the city -- you have to go way out to the suburbs for Target. We didn't get a Target in Queens until after I moved out here."

Me: "I guess that makes sense." *melodramatic sigh*

Last Saturday I had to drive out to Thousand Oaks -- which isn't even in Los Angeles county* -- to proctor a practice SAT. Getting paid is very important to me, and I didn't so much bitch about driving out to Thousand Oaks as griped a little. (Good naturedly, I swear.) Most of the griping was brought on by how surreal it was to be that far out of the city.

K, quite reasonably: "You just hate going anywhere north of Ventura."

Me: "...Actually, yes."

On Monday, I had to drive down to Loyola Merrymount University and it confirmed K's observation. From where we live, LMU is about as far away as Thousand Oaks. However, LMU is down in a much more urban direction.

Then yesterday, I had to drive out to Pepperdine University, and I recognized an addendum to what K had said: I also hate driving anywhere west of the 405.

I hate driving out towards the wilds of Simi Valley and Ventura County. (The latter is home to Thousand Oaks.)

(This is why Encino is part of the Valley and can never be part of the city itself. It's only a few miles west of where we live, but it's on the other side of the 405, and crossing the 405 is about as easy as crossing a Canyon or a River or some other Act of Nature.)

Pepperdine gets half a pass, though, because it's on a hill overlooking the ocean in Malibu, which is gorgeous. If I'm not in a rush afterwards, I can take the Pacific Coast Highway back to civilization and forgive Malibu for being so far west of the 405.


Geography is complicated.


*LA County is ginormous, encompassing The Valley, three other valleys, plus down through South Bay and Long Beach.

C. G. Waters [userpic]

someone else's origin story

January 6th, 2011 (03:34 pm)
& : writerly

At the end of October, I began writing this (read: yet another) novely thing.

(I need to make myself finish this one, but that's another concern.)

When I sat down with it in October I made the conscious decision not to write about the first time these characters worked together. I didn't want to get caught up in writing an origin story. I had (and have) a decent grasp of who these folks are, so let's go have fun with them.

So we're having fun with them.

I don't regret that decision, but I'm getting a little frustrated by how everyone is carrying two or three books worth of baggage around with them.

When I'm done with this story, I may have to go back and write the origin story after all. I may want to write the origin story by then.

That may in fact be a good progression.

C. G. Waters [userpic]

Origin Story

January 5th, 2011 (05:14 pm)
& : thinky

Roughly seven months ago, I departed Atlanta for good.

My wonderful K and I drove cross-country, had a few very mild adventures, and moved into our new two-bedroom apartment in our yuppie Los Angeles neighborhood.

We are incredibly happy, lovey-dovey dorks.

...

On Facebook I asked, if I were to begin blogging again in some capacity... well, what capacity should that be?

writerly? readerly? music geekerly?

dirt road girl turned unrepentant SoCal yuppie?

...

I grew up on a dead-end dirt road on the edge of a swamp.

No joke.

I don't want you to think it's the middle of nowhere, even if it felt that way to me when I was a kid. Last summer, we drove through Alabama and I will never make a one-stop-light town joke ever again.

I grew up on a big spring-fed lake in rural North Florida. It's just close enough to Gainesville on the one side and Orange Park on the other, that it has a touch of a suburban feel to it. It's a largely homogenous community too: white, southern, Christian (baptist/evangelical), conservative, lower-to-middle class.

Dirt roads, spanish moss, cow pastures, the occasional alligator sighting -- all of these were perfectly normal.

All of these are far away from my yuppie SoCal life.


Many people for various (mistaken) reasons think where I live now is an outer circle of hell.


I fucking love it here.


(to be con't.)

C. G. Waters [userpic]

...

NPR: How E-Books Will Change Reading And Writing

Earlier, on Facebook, I said this article was sort of interesting, and sort of not.

I would like to revise that statement.


I'm glad for people to be talking about how eReaders and the growth of electronic literacy -- two very separate things -- might change the ways in which humans tell stories.

In the end, that's what all literature comes down to -- the ways in which humans tell stories.


The article represents a distinct failure of imagination and a fundamental refusal to understand eReaders and electronic literacy from the inside. Picking up a Kindle and paging through a few works of fiction does not mean one understands eReaders from the inside.


We'll start with Carr,

"When printed books first became popular, thanks to Gutenberg's press, you saw this great expansion of eloquence and experimentation," says Carr. "All of which came out of the fact that here was a technology that encouraged people to read deeply, with great concentration and focus. And as we move to the new technology of the screen ... it has a very different effect, an almost opposite effect, and you will see a retreat from the sophistication and eloquence that characterized the printed page."


We've come upon the perennial cry that the cultural sky is falling.

For one, the article appears to be conflating eBooks and electronic literacy, which are two different things. One is a form/at, and the other is a shift in perspective. Neither are the death knell of art.


Let's get some historical perspective: the printing press ultimately encouraged something like that "encouragement to read deeply," but it also destroyed the culture of orality. After all, who needs to create epic poetry -- meant to be spoken and sung -- when we can simply write the story down?

More perspective: the culture of oral storytelling was communal. Reading a novel is an isolated experience. Fittingly, the novel became a bourgeious experience; I'm not saying that with judgment right now, just trying to locate us in a social and historical context.

Also, Guttenberg didn't personally revolutionize literacy; it happened gradually and coincided with the rise of the middle class and the eventual democratization of education. It didn't so much "encourage people to read deeply" as teach them how to read in the first place.

Y'know. You have to be taught to read. That requires a number of resources.


At this point electronic literacy is hard to predict. We're still in the middle of the paradigm shift, but that's a fucking exciting place to be!

At present, I'll conjecture that electronic literacy moves us toward a new and more communal form of storytelling -- because readers have greater opportunity to connect with one another, and because individual stories are themselves easier linked to one another. We may reconnect with the intertextuality -- the heteroglossia -- which Bakhtin saw with the advent of the novel.


I should come back to all this, particularly what I mean by that last point. It's hard for me to parse my thoughts right now because the whole "decay of art" rhetoric... irritates me. It's a case of seeing what one wants to see, and it belies a serious lack of imagination.




Moving on to some of the things Grossman says.


"It will be incumbent on novelists to hook readers right away," says Grossman. "You won't be allowed to do a kind of tone poem overture, you're going to want to have blood on the wall by the end of the second paragraph."

Let's all take another step back.

The more books that are available to readers, the more important good openings are, espeically if you want to capture a large audience. That's called mass production. That's nothing new. The greater selection a reader has, the more choosey she can afford to be. Of course they're going to reach for the story with the best hook.

Once could say that the importance of a good hook is Older Than Fuedalism -- possibly even Older Than Dirt -- with the Classical advice that a story should start in media res.


Moreover, a strong hook and beautiful poetic language are not mutually exclusive.

There is no necessary relationship between the two, and it's disengenous to claim that there is.


I don't yet own an eReader, but I have spent a great deal of time reading fiction on a computer screen -- which is actually a gread deal more inconvenient than eReaders. On a computer screen you may be scrolling endlessly; all the eReaders I'm familiar with actually model the turning of a page.


I would conjecture that the main effect eReaders will have is twofold:

1) They will encourage a rennaissance in the short form.

We've already been seeing an increase in successful short story anthologies. Short forms have long been a hard sell in the publishing industry because they're largely not cost effective -- but that statement is based on the print model of publishing.

Hopefully this will open the door for writers who primarily work in the short form; it may even bring back the idea of the single author anthology. There's no inherent reason why you couldn't treat a eBook short story collection much like one treats an .mp3 album on iTunes or what-have-you. Buy one story, a couple stories, or the whole thing at a discount. (No, I don't expect the industry to hop immediately on board with such an idea, but I'm interested in potentials here.)

Moreover, the short form lends itself more easily to experimentation. Readers (and publishers) are more likely to take a chance and read outside their comfort zone if the length of commitment is low.


Don't misunderstand; I'm not suggesting there's no place for long-form experimental pieces.

No, right now I'm interested in highlighting the organic opportunities, which may emerge from the proliferation of eReaders.


2) Yes, there is some difference in the experience between reading a printed page and reading off a screen

In my experience, shorter paragraphs are easier to read on screen. In fact, I think that's rapidly apparent in the blogosphere. I believe many internet-based story markets are aware of this as well -- c.f. the guidelines at Clarkesworld.

However, we've been slowly trending toward this since the early 20th century, as should be apparent to anyone who's read a 19th century novel or two.

Short paragraphs and tight openings are not a death knell for the novel. Neither are mutually exclusive with strong prose. Short paragraphs in particular could present whole new possibities for poetic prose.

Most poetry is a very short form, after all; it's given to stanzas and shorter statements.


Novelist Rick Moody gave it a shot.

"I began to see that trying to write within this tiny little frame, 140 characters, was kind of like trying to write haiku. It's very poetical in its compaction, and it kind of got under my skin, and I kept thinking, 'Wouldn't it be fun to try and work with this?' " Moody says.

I agree wholeheartedly with Moody's desire to play with the constraints of a twitter length story. Ultimately, 140 characters is not a feasible length to sustain a whole genre, but the desire to play with limits should always be celebrated.

After all, Hemingway wrote a successful six word story.

The article does suggest that the presentation of Moody's twitter story wasn't entirely successful, but the flaw appears to have been with the new technology and not the story itself.



In the end, what use is it to cry and moan and gnash our authorial teeth that the vast intertubes will destroy art?


I'm much more interested in looking at the opportunities that come with the constraints of a new form, the paradigms that open up with a new way of reading.

C. G. Waters [userpic]

Seven Tips

October 6th, 2009 (10:08 am)
& : HAT

Allegedly, these are Seven Tips for Becoming a Great Writer.

Yet they have nothing to do with writing. Indeed, a better description would be Seven Tips for Becoming a Great Poser because they have everything to do with cultivating an image.

1. Don’t write every day – write when inspired -- You know what writers are really fucking good at? Procrastination. I'll elaborate on why you should write every day in a minute, but for right now it's good to remember that to be a writer, writing must be your profession. Would you take a day off from work every time you felt a little grumbly about going into the office? Better yet, wouldn't you get fired if you did?

2. Read narrowly -- Because God knows a writer should be ignorant of what's out there.

3. Write what you know -- Taken to its logical extreme, this means you should never write a pov character of a different gender, ethnicity, age; never write a setting you've never visited. (I wonder where that leaves much Spec Fic?) Oh, you my dear reader may object that the point isn't meant like that; I should look at it more closely. "Writing what you know is boring if you work in an office, so make sure you’re living a life worth writing about." Ah, I get it now. One can only be a Great Writer if one has the priviledge of abandoning one's day job.

4. Shun writing workshops -- This comes back to #2, because God knows a writer works best in isolation, with no one around to give perspective or call bullshit. And yes, all writers have bullshit.

5. Quit your job -- You're going to get a lot of writing done in all that freetime you have once you're homeless.

6. Drink -- Are we really using Hemingway as an example here? I know insecurity, alcoholism, depression, and suicide are all really attractive, but personally, using alcohol or any addictive behavior as a crutch will only weaken your creative ability.

7. Be extreme -- This wouldn't be a bad tip if it were actually referring to writing; you don't want to flinch when you're writing. However, cultivating eccentricity has nothing to do with writing and everything to do with being a poser. Being a poser will not help you to write. In fact, it may actively interfere with your writing because writing demands honesty. You are not a special snowflake.



For contrast, I present my Seven Tips for Being a Writer.

1. Get pissed off -- Spite is a great motivator. (Indeed, it's driving me right now.) More seriously, strong writing is driven by a strong emotional response, and anger is one strong emotional response. Analyze what makes you pissed off, and use it.

2. Do not quit your day job -- Not until you can earn a living wage as a writer. This is sheerly practical advice; you can't write if you can't eat. If you go bankrupt, you're going to be distracted from your writing. Remember your day job is a day job; remember that writing is a second job. Plenty of people work two jobs.

3. Write every day, whether you feel "inspired" or not -- Writing is your profession. Full stop. You have to take it seriously. Write at least one sentence every day. Write at least one sentence even if it's crap and you cross it out the next day to write another sentence in its place.

4. To reiterate, do not wait for "inspiration" -- If you wait around for some ideal "inspiration" you've built up in your head, you'll never write a damn thing. As I said, writers are good at procrastination. What's more, if you're not actively thinking about a story, any story, you'll never get to that beautiful place where the story clicks.

5. On that theme, poke it with a stick -- If you don't see an immediate way through a story or a scene, keep after it. Break it down. Come at it from another angle. No, not every story is salvageable, but if you give up just because it gets hard, you'll never finish a damn thing. Make it work. It doesn't need to be perfect on the first draft--in fact, it shouldn't be perfect. That is what drafting is for.

6. Read everything that catches your attenion, even if it's crap -- No, don't suffer through reading something if you really don't want to read it anymore, but as a writer you need to know what's out there. Reading good things is important, but reading crap can be useful, too. Reading crap 1) can be entertaining, 2) is often instructive, and 3) may very well get you pissed off. (See #1) This is even more important if you're writing a particular genre or trope; you have to know what's been done otherwise you run the risk of coming off dated, stale, or boring.

7. Don't be a poser -- Studied eccentricity will get you nowhere. A cult of cool will get you nowhere. Writing is about honesty. If you don't care about what you're doing, if you don't love it to your core, no one else will care either. Readers can sense a fake, and the last thing you want to do is talk down to your audience.


(Yes, I am wearing a hat right now.)

(Also, yes I am sober. It's ten in the morning.)

C. G. Waters [userpic]

hm

September 17th, 2009 (08:25 am)
Tags: ,

& : morning can go die in a fire

Y'know how designers create inspiration boards when they're working on a collection? I should do that for this novel-thingy.

It's not like I don't compulsively save interesting images to my hard drive.



Maybe I will post a few of the pictures.


(I'm caught between "ooh project!" and glaring balefully at the novel-thingy itself.)

(Part of the problem is I'm feeling all nostalgic--not so much for school but for a fall semester of classes, if that makes sense.)

C. G. Waters [userpic]

*headtilt*

September 12th, 2009 (06:47 pm)
& : questionable

So I am writing a novel, which is probably really fucking unsurprising if you know anything about how I do original fic.

Let me start over again. So I'm writing a novel, and it's incredibly difficult to call it a novel, even though it's clearly a novel. I'm writing a story, a long story, a novel thingy. It's a novel, or it's trying to be.

Well, it is a novel. Let's leave it at that.

There's part of a post about this that's been hanging around my head since, oh, late July. I angst a lot about not writing much this calendar year. I angst about not being able to pick back up with the novel I started last year after I inadvertantly laid it down during the holidays. I angst about how difficult it is to re-discover the habit of writing everyday, about how I can't average an easy 1200 words a sitting anymore, and about how I need to remind myself of the lesson behind Neil's infamous wisdom: "George R. R. Martin is not your bitch."


However, we can all agree that the emo look is a bit unattractive and overdone.


So I'm writing a novel, and I don't know a whole hell of a lot about what's going on in it, but as my Stel keeps reminding me, that's why you write something in the first place. She's absolutely right. Somewhere in the under-used logic section of my brain, I know that stories don't spring fully formed from your mind like Athena from--

Okay, yeah, speaking of me doing overdone.

The principle holds true. A couple months back, I was scared and doubting myself because I didn't know all these about the story, so how could I possibly try to write it? and she asked me, well, what are you doing to find these things out? I replied with Dumbstruck Silence. Probably the most profound Dumbstruck Silence I've ever done.


Finally, finally, this is the first week I've felt like things are clicking again. I mean, there was actual motherfucking prose last weekend, just shy of seven hundred words.


...


In other news, I need to think about short stories again, too. I wish the short format itself worked better for me, but we just don't get along well.

That said, I would really like to write a story called "Caren and Chloe Troublefield and the Case of the Talking Coke Bottle."

An allegedly random name generator app which draws on information from the U.S. cenus gave me Caren Troublefield and Chloe Troublefield right next to each other in a batch of fifty. They certainly deserve their very own spec fic story, don't you think?

Kind of like the Bobsey Twins, only not.

C. G. Waters [userpic]

*off hiatus*

September 1st, 2009 (08:47 am)
))) : Fever Ray

Perspective.

2008 was a fine writing year, probably the best I've ever had.

2009... is not over yet.


Nope.



I remind myself that my life is changing--overall for the better--but in ways which force me to adjust how and when I write. A big factor is that I'm cobbling together about forty hours a week at work, but those hours are never quite regular. Plus, as some of you know, I wasn't able to work for a couple years... and I've never had a job schedule as erratic as this.

(I teach for a major test prep company, but I also do office work for them as well. The former involves being on my feet for three hours straight; the latter is part customer service, part secretarial work, part putting together material for classes and events. I get paid by the hour, hence the erratic hours.)


On the other, infinitely more awesome hand, Stel and I are coming up on our one year anniversary. <3



I'm on Good Reads: cw.

I'm back on twitter: @redgonewrong.


I am, in short, a work in progress.

C. G. Waters [userpic]

...

November 17th, 2008 (09:00 pm)
Tags:

& : madness

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
25,004 / 80,000
(31.3%)


The madness has officially set in.

I'm shuffling around my apartment in ratty jeans, an old t-shirt, and a men's extra large flannel shirt. I'm carrying a little stuffed puppy with me like a security blanket. I feel like I'm throwing myself against a brick wall for hours just to get 1000 words out. I sit hunched over my laptop like a troll.

I'm having flashbacks to writing my undergraduate honors thesis, a task that was accomplished in a haze of exhaustion and caffeine and repetition of the word fuck.

I have taken to consoling myself with hot chocolate and marshmallows. Sometimes I toast these marshmallows over the open flame of my gas stovetop. (This has resulted in trauma to my tongue.)


I call my girlfriend in fits of frustration, and she says beautiful sane words to me. Love keeps me grounded.


I expect the madness will soon pass. I expect it will eventually return.

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