At 12:06 AM 4/20/2003 -0700, Quinn wrote:
 >I just hit a milestone -- fortieth short story accepted today.

Congratulations!  Where are you submitting?  I'm at the end of my 
good-markets list, and I need an acceptance.  Just got rejected the other 
day from the MZB's Swords and Sorceresses Anthology.  I rejected the 
rejection (threw it away) rather than keeping it in the inbox, but that 
didn't make me feel any better.  That particular story isn't a "fit" for 
anyone else.  (And apparently not even for them.)

Been feeling that this isn't my calling after all, must not be, or else 
we'd see some action; on the ChickLit and other mailing lists, people are 
constantly announcing their three-book contracts and being picked up here 
and there, and even that execrable writer [name deleted] was picked up by a 
New York house after hawking her wares out of her trunk for a couple of 
years.  I know I'm not writing chicklit or romance, but still.  Perhaps 
it's as the fellow (was it Jonathan Kellerman?  Or was it the other, James 
Patterson?  I think this was Patterson, in this month's "The Writer" mag) 
said--"The good sentences and writing got in the way of the story.  I 
decided to write differently, and that's when I got 
popular."  (Paraphrased, but that's the soul of the statement.)

But what's the use of not using your own voice?  Then you're prostituting 
your art and it's not YOU they're reading.  Or maybe you *become* what you 
pander down to eventually.  Maybe that's what everyone's supposed to be 
doing, in the same way that we're supposed to get our hair done like 
everyone else and wear whatever's in fashion.  Things are not as bad that 
way as they used to be in fashion, but they're worse in the arts.  I 
haven't seen a first-run movie in years after which I could honestly say, 
"That was a good story that didn't have any huge plot holes, had a 
satisfactory ending that kept its promise to the viewers as made in the 
beginning, and didn't lose its way with a bunch of toilet 
humor."  Everything's nanny-diaries that isn't teen-boy fantasy, it 
seems.  Or maybe it's the solstice or whatever making me see things 
darkly.  (Is this a solstice?  It has to be *something*--perhaps it's that 
it's Easter, although I usually don't have such a feeling of needing a 
do-over, a new start.  I suppose it's rather appropriate, considering.)

On the other hand, fantasy's really slow, according to the 
marketplace.  What I've been working on for the past couple of years--the 
mysteries--might sell.  Right now two of the editors I have work sitting 
with are at the World Horror convention, and so they're not even messing 
with the work at the moment, so at least it's not getting sent back.  I'm 
working on a paranormal with some romance in hopes that it will appeal to 
Luna or the new Tor line.  In fact, it's centered around Camille, the 
character I inserted into the collaborative novel we did back in around 
1991 or so.  She never did leave my creative consciousness, but she really 
didn't fit with Devon, Rebecca's character, so this time she hops on the 
train with Tarrytown, a career tramp.  Another "book of my heart" that 
doesn't fit a category, no doubt . . . but possibly there's enough of the 
paranormal in it to suit some readers.  (She's pilfered somebody's 
luckpiece and doesn't really realize what it is until she needs to get out 
of a scrape.)

I tell you what, it has been SUCH a relief to be able to work on something 
that just flows out, where the events proceed out of character naturally 
and just feel right and fit with what's going on, and not a GDM.  (A 
gol-durn mystery.)  The mysteries have to be planned or outlined by the 
left brain, which means stopping and figuring out consciously what is going 
to happen next and what clever twist will keep them reading.  The Camille 
story just happens.  What she does comes out of her nature as a reaction to 
what's happening around her, and she just says what she feels like 
saying.  It's the right brain in control, and he/she enjoys driving while 
the left brain is content to run spellcheck (more like spellfeed--it 
usually gets it right the first time) and make syntactical observations and 
suggestions.  Oh, and it makes up file names and finds the files where I 
typed some tidbit or another that I can use in the ongoing story.  And 
answers the phone if it dares to ring.

Um.  Well, anyway, I'm not a natural at short stories.  Mine are too long 
for most markets, and everyone who consents to read them usually says, 
"Hey, where's the next chapter?"  I love to read novels, and thus I think 
I'm a natural novelist.  Not that it does me much good.  I suppose I ought 
to keep an online diary or blog, because that way I'd have readers 
(probably) and would keep getting e-mail from them confirming that they're 
reading it.  It's just that the diary entries don't come to me or appeal to 
me the way fiction does.  It's a tough desire to live with.

I'll be picking up a copy of your short story book/pamphlet whenever that 
link becomes clickable.  Looked like you discussed lots of the topics we've 
typed about here on the echo over the past few years.

Shal
- - -
The only thing that flies faster than an F-16 is your guardian angel
- - - -
Nine out of ten doctors recommend reading my books.  The tenth is a quack.
Shalanna Collins   http://home.attbi.com/~shalanna/>
_Dulcinea: or Wizardry A-Flute_  (e-mail me 4 excerpt)  ISBN 0-7388-5388-7
New!  I'm trying out a blog/jrnl http://www.livejournal.com/users/shalanna/>

--- Rachel's Little NET2FIDO Gate v 0.9.9.8 Alpha