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I'm always interested to read what other writers have to say about their processes, their submissions, all the mechanics of that struggle to get the work out into the world. It's been a while since I've posted an update like that. This kind of thing is intended both as a record of my progress, for my own future reference, and for the perspective of anyone else who may be interested, possibly others engaged in similar efforts.

It's been almost a year since my first story was published. May 31, 2011, Electric Spec published Remodel With Swan Parts. From my vantage point a year later, that story seems very different from what I write now, though it still "sounds" a bit like me. I'd like to think my voice has evolved, strengthened.

At the time that story was accepted, I had made something like 90 submissions, though most of that number was submissions of stories I've since stuck in a drawer. I'm certainly writing better stuff now, and I'm somewhere near my 190th submission. Even having pulled back a number of stories I'd considered finished, I have more completed work out there, so the subs are racking up more quickly now. I made 13 submissions last month, April. I have to say I thought the second acceptance would come more easily and quickly than the first. You know, submit 90 times and get a story accepted, and maybe you hope the second acceptance comes after 40-60 more subs, and after that maybe you sell one out of every 20-30 you send out. Hasn't worked out that way. I've tallied more rejections since that acceptance than I had before it.

There's no doubt I've made progress, though. As mentioned in previous blog posts, a greater number of my submissions earn personal rejections, or make "final cut" or "short list" status before rejection. I'm writing better stuff, coming up with first drafts that are closer to a working story, and managing to finish most pieces with 4-5 drafts instead of the 10 or 12 or 15 it used to take. I feel more confident, more sure of what's required to make a good story.

Also I've become better at partitioning off the different parts or aspects of me as a writer, so they don't trip over each other. I think the "writer," "editor" and "submitter" functions are separate, use different parts of the brain, and at times even have competing goals. "Writer" wants to crank out fancy-sounding words, and preserve all the wonderfully crafted bits, and send them out into the world so everyone will have a chance to love them. "Editor" needs to be ruthless about removing what's unneeded, which often means cutting the most florid and precious bits of prose. "Editor" also has to be tough about going over a story repeatedly until it's as good as it can be. "Submitter" needs to be a robot, without emotional attachment to the stories themselves. He just sends them out, and when rejections happen as they so often do at this stage, send them out again without allowing the writer's hurt feelings or the editor's need to continually revise get in the way.

Currently I have 16 stories in submission. I have another 4-5 stories I previously considered "finished" but which have been withdrawn, so I suppose I could claim to have about 20 completed short stories. I have another 10 or so, in various stages of completion, which are "stuck" for one reason or another. Some of these have been through many drafts and just haven't found the right tone or balance or voice. Some have been written through to the end, maybe revised or tweaked a little, but allowed to languish because they're lacking in some important way. A few more are nearly finished and just need to be gone over a few more times.

One thing that's changed recently is that instead of just dreaming up lots of story ideas and working on whatever seems most compelling to me, for the past few months I've been focused on crafting one story at a time for themed anthologies. I find the combination of the given theme (which forces me to narrow down, zoom in, and eliminate endless possibilities) and the deadline (which forces me to get to work and proceed toward a goal like a professional would) has been useful. Since this change, I've come up with three of my favorite pieces. These are in my opinion not only strong, compelling work, but the types of things I might not have come up with absent the impetus of the anthologies for which I crafted them. As a result I've exercised some muscles I might've previously left dormant for a while, and gone in some cool new directions suggestive of other future possibilities.

I've also experimented with flash pieces, or short stories on the shorter side, say 600 or 800 or up to 1,300 words. That's another new approach that lets me try new voices, new techniques, and experiment a bit more freely.

The way things are headed now, I've been completing and submitting about one new story every 3-4 weeks. I feel much more in control of my craft, more certain of the artistic direction I'm pursuing, and in the process of defining technical and thematic aspects of the work in a way that makes me feel more definite about what I'm doing. True, I expected I'd have racked up another publication credit or two by now, but my submissions are becoming better received, I'm putting out more accomplished work all the time, and there's no doubt in my mind I'm headed in the right direction. I think it's just a matter of continuing to do pretty much exactly what I've been doing this past few months, continuing to put in the the time writing and editing and submitting, reading and reviewing books, making contacts, learning about markets, and getting myself out there. I feel surprisingly self-assured considering the lack of outward success I have to show thus far. When I look back on this post in a year or two, maybe I'll laugh at my obliviously naive perspective. Maybe I'll wish I could tell my past self, "Just keep on moving. Hang in there, and the path forward will be clearer soon."

I've been reading a lot of story anthologies lately, and the word "uneven" comes up in my reviews so often I sound like a broken record. Many anthologies are mixed in terms of quality, and while you might guess the problem to be the difficulty of finding enough strong writers to participate, I think it's more that some of the most prominent writers earn their spot by name recognition alone, and just go through the motions. Most of the stories with "New York Times bestseller" as part of the author bio seemed to me rushed, superficial and generally lacking, as if cranked out to fulfill a commitment rather than to express ideas. There are exceptions. Jim Butcher is well-known, with a successful series of novels, and his lead-off story "Curses" is enjoyable and engaging. The strongest work here, and there is certainly enough of it to justify purchase of The Naked City, comes from emerging or mid-list writers.

Matthew Kressel's "The Bricks of Gelecek" may have been the most beautifully crafted piece here, and certainly the most poetic. It's my first exposure to Kressel and I'll keep his name in mind. Jeffrey Ford's "Daddy Longlegs of the Evening" overcomes a somewhat puzzling and ultimately not-entirely-satisfying central concept by virtue of a pleasing narrative voice and wonderfully crafted prose. Lucius Shepard's "The Skinny Girl" is likewise stronger on style than content, but the piece is relatively brief and moves along well. Shepard is one of the truly fine craftsman of sentences in genre writing. Nathan Ballingrud's "The Way Station" feels like the most heartfelt and intense of stories here. As with Kressel, this is a name I'll follow in the future. Caitlin R. Kiernan is one of my favorite writers of weird and fantastic fiction, and her "The Colliers' Venus (1893)" was an excellent, flavorful period piece with a bit of steampunk feel, but not so much as to annoy those of us who find steampunk tiresome.

Lavie Tidhar's "The Projected Girl" started off strong and had me engaged for a while, only to drag later on. Could've been a great 20 page story or even a very good 30 pager, but at 40 pages overstayed its welcome. Likewise, I went back and forth on Elizabeth Bear's lengthy closing piece, "King Pole, Gallows Pole, Bottle Tree." It's well-written and emotionally real, but often the fantasy component to the story felt tacked-on to a real world story about a couple of friends.

I understand story anthologies are tough to put together. Often bigger names have to be included in order to get a publisher interested. This necessity makes things tougher on Editor Ellen Datlow, who's better at this kind of thing than anyone, as the all-stars don't seem to be putting in as much effort as the players off the bench. That's not a reason to avoid The Naked City, not at all, but this will be of greater interest to fans of writers like Kiernan, Ballingrud, Ford and Shepard than fans of the better-known names prominently featured on the cover.

I imagine some readers might have avoided Chesya Burke's collection due to the title, convinced that the stories were not merely concerned with the black experience, but intended specifically for a black readership. To avoid Let's Play White for that reason would be a mistake, though, for any reader interested in a unique take on the horror and fantasy genres.

The stories in this collection take place in a variety of settings, both in terms of time and place. Some are contemporary and urban, while some of the most effective pieces take place decades ago in the American South. So much fantasy and horror fiction tends to happen in imaginary alternate worlds, yet Burke demonstrates there are plenty of compelling settings for stories in the real world outside the most common "present-day-big-city" approach.

It's my belief that a writer's technique and skill change most quickly early in their career, so first collections or early novels are quite often uneven. I'd say that's the case here. Though I appreciate stories that retain mystery, or that leave key questions unanswered, several stories here left me unsatisfied. In order to pull off the mysterious ending, it's necessary to engage the reader and provide some kind of payoff, even if there's not clean resolution. A few of the stories were a bit slight, less than fully formed, or ended too near where they began.

Having said that, the greater number of stories in the collection are quite accomplished. "Cue: Change" is an unusual take on the zombie tale, and also a bit of a change in terms of tone from the rest of the stories here. "What She Saw When She Flew Away" is an affecting tale about a young girl whose twin has died. Other favorites include the historical settings of “I Make People Do Bad Things” (about a brothel madame in mid-century Harlem) and “The Teachings and Redemption of Ms. Fannie Lou Mason,” a novella that takes up the last 1/3 of the book. The Ms. Mason of the title is a witch who travels through a number of small towns. In one, she tries to help young girls who may have powers similar to her own. Given enough space to flesh out her ideas a bit more here, Burke portrays the milieu with a lot of vividness and flavor.

Many first collections are internally inconsistent, but the better stories in Let's Play White more than justify the collection as a whole, and show Chesya Burke to be a capable writer worth following.

Most of my recent posts to this blog have been book reviews. I've been reading a lot lately, and it's fun to write a review of what I've read, and even more fun to receive feedback from some of my favorite authors who have seen and appreciated my reviews.

I didn't intend to drift away from more frequent posts about my own writing, not because I perceive there to be a large number of people anxious to know more about the author of a bunch of stories they haven't read, but because it's useful for me. This is a way of keeping track of my progress and forces me to think about my own situation and status as a writer from the outside. It's a way of forcing a bit of (at least slightly) objective self-evaluation.

So, let's see. It's been about 10 months since my first fiction publication, "Remodel With Swan Parts" which appeared in Electric Spec. The kind of thing I've been writing this past year or so is quite a bit different from that, but unfortunately I haven't had anything else published yet so I don't have any visible-to-the-public examples to show in order to give an idea of what I'm up to.

On top of changing, as far as genre or "feel," what I write in the past year or so, I've also changed focus in a couple of other ways.

First, I'm challenging myself to write shorter pieces, somewhere between flash fiction and very short stories, at least once a month. I find it's fun to start something and finish it fairly quickly. A new creation of 600-1500 words allows me to experiment a bit with different voices, styles, point of view. I've come up with a few interesting pieces like this recently, and so far reaction to these pieces has been positive. This is something I plan to continue, at least for now. I'd actually rather focus on writing longer, rather than shorter, but I have to face the fact that I'm still in the mode of learning, trying to improve and to break through. It's more important for me to get stronger, to create a broader diversity of stories, and to create shorter pieces which might be more acceptable to a larger number of editors and venues than the longer stuff I might rather do. 

Second, I've been writing for submission to themed anthologies lately, rather than just writing for myself and then sending to any and all periodicals that fit what I've created. I find it stimulates me to move in different directions, to try thinks I might not otherwise have done. I took a first stab at "writing to order" when an editor I know gave me an opportunity to create something for such an anthology, and enjoyed the experience so much I've since written and submitted to a second such venue (story already rejected and resubmitted elsewhere) and I'm currently working on a third. This shift is not just about a desire to launch myself toward a different kind of publishing venue, but also challenging myself to create to order, within certain limits or parameters. It's good practice for if my work ever ends up in some kind of demand, and it's also good inspiration. I can cerainly say that the two completed stories along these lines would never have been written if not for the impetus provided by the theme.

Still working, still submitting. Still going through occasional periods of thinking it's just so tough to break through and get my work a chance to be notice. Hanging in there, though. Perisisting.

The first time I remember hearing the term "fugue state" was in association with the David Lynch film Lost Highway, in which a character detaches psychologically from life he knows, loses his very self. He drifts on through life, encountering strangers who are vaguely familiar, and tripping over circumstances which seem tenuously related to the life and self-hood he knew before.



I don't know how much Brian Evenson was inspired by Lynch's film, if at all. The characters in Fugue State encounter mysteries, and in most cases undergo some kind of shift or dislocation of personality. Sometimes the characters are lost, while the reader is allowed insight into the character's plight, and at other times the reader is equally mystified. This obliqueness is intentional, not a matter of poor craft, of stories lacking somehow. When an author gives the reader such a large helping of absurdity, of disconnection and illogic, the reader must determine whether the effects are in the service of a coherent artistic intention, or if the storyteller is himself lost, or just goofing around. Evenson's stories always convey not only willful intention, but consummate craft.

There may be no more than a thin line between the pointlessly nonsensical and the profoundly obscure, or resonantly absurd. Storytellers like Kafka and Borges, not to mention David Lynch, manage to test the limits of what their audience may consider meaningful without every straying over that aforementioned line.

These stories vary dramatically in length, from 2-page snippets to the 30-page title novella. Fugue State straddles the boundary between experimental literary fiction and genres such as weird fantasy, horror and slipstream. The writing here has the flavor of edgy-yet-mainstream literature, but in these stories weird things occur as in Poe, Kafka and the like. Just as with the other authors I've mentioned by name, Brian Evenson's work is not for everyone. These mysterious and intelligent fictions don't always give answers, but rather stimulate some hidden, unknowable aspect of the subconscious. Those who like this kind of thing - Kafka, Borges, even David Lynch's Lost Highway or Mulholland Drive - will love Fugue State. I recommend it highly.

Available Dark follows Cassandra Neary, a damaged, self-destructive and somewhat washed-up art photographer, who first appeared in Hand's 2007 novel, Generation Loss. A novel with Neary as a protagonist is bound to be a wild ride. She's prone to sudden changes in direction, abruptly taking off for an isolated island off of Maine (in Generation Loss), or to meet a shady Finnish collector of death-obsessed photographs, or chase a long-lost friend/lover who might be in Iceland. Along the way she encounters murder and threat, and often manages to multiply her own troubles by the following her own badly damaged sense of direction. Complicating all this is Cass's painful personal history, which lingers in her present despite the passage of years. Some people deal with adversity by bucking up and getting on with things, while others self-medicate using a cocktail of antisocial behavior, emotional avoidance, and a constant flow of mood-altering substances. Cass fits in the latter, and for this reason her problems aren't so much solved as left to accumulate, trailing in her wake.

Such a compelling central character does much of the work in engaging the reader. On top of this we have unusual settings (Reykjavik and Iceland's outlying areas are especially exotic, well drawn here) and such intriguing milieu as the worlds of photography concerned with death and folklore, the Scandinavian Black Metal scene, and obscure underground cult-like groups dedicated to resurrecting ancient Norse worship. The book is packed with vivid details, bizarre characters, and fascinating and varied artistic and cultural obsessions.

Most of Hand's earlier writing was constrained to Fantasy and related genres, but here she steps away from the impossible. Available Dark concerns itself with real world situations, characters and conflicts, yet these convey all the bizarre extremity of the strangest alt-world fantasy. It's possible some of her devoted readers may be disappointed by what is essentially a mainstream thriller, but I don't feel Available Dark suffers in the least from the lack of overt "impossible" elements. Normally if one of my favorite genre writers took a detour into the mainstream, I might say, "That's nice, now get back to what you do best." In this case, I find the character and settings so compelling I'd happily follow a Cass Neary series.

Hand seems to me a writer's writer, less concerned with superficial effects or pursuit of the latest publishing industry fad, more interested in crafting artful, expressive prose and shining light upon genuine and true "real life" moments. With Available Dark, Elizabeth Hand walks the tightrope between more accessible mainstream entertainments on one hand, and on the other maintaining a high artistic standing in the unflinching exploration of the dark and exotic. Available Dark constitutes yet another proof of Hand's status as one of the very best writers working today, in any genre. I can't wait for more Cassandra Neary.

Nightingale Songs is the third story collection from Canadian writer Simon Strantzas, following Beneath the Surface and Cold to the Touch. While these earlier collections might be characterized by more of a Ligotti or Lovecraft vibe, Nightingale Songs takes the reader into quieter, more restrained territory. The influences underlying these stories are acknowledged up-front, in John Langan's introduction, which mentions Ramsay Campbell and Robert Aickman. I perceive more of an Aickman feel here. Robert Aickman is a favorite of many readers of horror fiction, but some consider his work too vague or low-key. The same quality is true of Strantzas's work. His work is so accomplished, so cleanly polished, that he's quickly acquired a devoted following. At the same time, the style and the mood of these stories may not satisfy those readers seeking a more visceral or dynamic experience. This collection is most suited to those who enjoy a subtle, introspective read in which the reader's imagination is called upon to enrich and enliven the experience.

One word that comes to mind, as an overall descriptor for these stories as a group, is restrained. The emotions at play here aren't terror, rage or mania. The characters in Nightingale Songs worry. They suffer anxiety or hesitation. In some cases they doubt, or wonder if they saw what they think they saw, if they can trust their memory. When they obsess, their focus is directed inward. When they act, they do so quietly.

The writing is transparent in style. The simplicity and clarity of the prose is its strength, though some readers will consider this its weakness. Sentences are stripped-down and polished, and convey the sense that a lot more craft and care goes into this almost Zen-like level of straightforwardness than is immediately apparent to the reader. Much writing in the horror community is concerned with splashy set pieces and gotcha moments, so a writer who cares so much about subtler, slower effects stands out from the crowd.

At the same time, I'd argue most of the stories could benefit from a bit more sensory detail. Descriptive passages seem intentionally vague. I'd like to see how a Strantzas story worked, with all the same tension and disquiet, but with greater fleshing-out of the sensory world of the story. The inner world of the character is described with subtlety and nuance, and I think these stories could be improved by giving the reader a more vivid sense (mostly visual) of the characters and their surroundings. This may be completely my own bias, and doesn't indicate Strantzas has failed to achieve his aim with these stories. My impression is that the author has rendered characters and settings in an intentionally elliptical way, leaving many details blank, to be filled-in by the reader's imagination.

There is much to respect here in terms of writerly craft and care. These stories all have a distinctive clarity, a sort of crystalline straightforwardness. I enjoyed this collection and will definitely keep an eye on Strantzas in the future.

I've been reading an awful lot of story anthologies lately, and the word "uneven" seems to occur to me just about every time. No exception here, I'm afraid. Despite the roster of respected names on display here, from experimentalists to literary mainstays, writers with horror/fantasy credentials and those who work in other genres such as mysteries, many seemed not to know what to do with the theme.

Complicating matters further is the editors' use of novel excerpts, rather than stories specifically crafted to fit here. The Anne Rice and Peter Straub excerpts, at least, were some of the better writing on display, and somewhat suited to the theme.

I most enjoyed the short stories of Jeanette Winterson, Jamaica Kincaid, Joyce Carol Oates and Angela Carter, all of them inventive, colorfully told and evocative. Otherwise, the most interesting stories were by writers I previously knew by name only, like Ruth Rendell and Scott Bradfield, or hadn't heard of before, as in the case of Jamaica Kincaid and Emma Tennant.

Conversely, some of the more established names whose work I looked forward to here -- Martin Amis, John Hawkes, Robert Coover, Kathy Acker and William T. Vollman -- disappointed. At least Acker and Vollman displayed a knack for stringing together a nicely-formed sentence. Amis, Hawkes and Coover all three lost me early on. Their stories seemed less about engaging the reader and more about amusing the writers themselves with puns, crudity and pointless wackiness.

I know some readers frown upon fiction writers, who are also editors, including work in their own edited anthologies. It's interesting that two of the better stories here are by the editors of The New Gothic, Bradford Morrow and Patrick McGrath. Morrow's "The Road to Nadeja" drew me in as much as anything in the book. A compellingly drawn narrative. McGrath's "The Smell" was strongly narratived, a great imitation of the old-fashioned Gothic in terms of both voice and tone.

In the end, I was left thinking this "New Gothic" movement, if there ever was such a thing (this was released in 1992), lacked the vitality and momentum to deserve a title, let alone to support a themed anthology of this kind.

I finished this book soon after it came out, and have been meaning to write an in-depth review ever since. Spending a lot of time into writing a Stephen King review seems unnecessary, for a couple of reasons.

First, he's Stephen King, one of the most popular fiction writers of our time. Thousands of reviews of this book exist already. Every major critic has it covered. If you want to get a sense whether this is for you, if it's one of King's better books (it is), or if it's one of his scary ones (it isn't), there are lots of opinions out there.

The second reason, more important, is that most readers have already made up their minds about King. Many love him, and read everything he writes, so they don't care what I have to say. Others say his fiction lacks complexity, it's low-brow, non-literary. These wouldn't give the latest from King a try no matter what the critics say, let alone me.

Rather than an actual review, though, I do have a few things I want to say about this book. It's a great story, worth a read for those with even the slightest interest in King's storytelling, or those interested in American history, particularly JFK's era. That's this story's hook: a chance to go back and change the events of Kennedy's assassination. The trick is, 11/22/63 turns out to be about memory, about second chances, and more than anything else, love.

The critics who say King's fiction lacks complexity are right to a certain degree, but they're also missing the point. The great thing he does is tell a story that feels genuine, like real experience. His characters are engaging, natural, easily likable. Most of his books, no matter where they're set or what kind of characters inhabit them, feel like a similar experiences. This aspect is mentioned by pretty much everyone who reads King's work, so if you've read him, you probably know what I mean. Stephen King books, pretty much all of them, feel like a place you want to go visit.

If you've read Stephen King and enjoy him at all, the only thing you need to know about 11/22/63 is that it stands among his best books, and certainly among the top few of the past twenty years.

If you don't like King much, or have somehow not bothered to read anything of his before, this is the one book I'd suggest might be worth checking out. Real King haters probably won't be won over, but there's a remarkable sensitivity to his writing about a romantic relationship which might convince readers who were on the fence. Those who might have wanted to give King a try but never wanted to go for the straight horror stuff, this is your chance. 11/22/63 is alternate history, it's fantasy in the style of Twilight Zone, and it feels authentic despite these aspects. A few harsh events occur, but they're presented realistically, not horror-style.

I do wish he could be persuaded to let someone edit him more closely. While the sentence-level writing is just fine, at times the story bogs down and nothing seems to happen for dozens of pages. As with his last two major books, trimming a quarter of the length would have made for a better novel.

Much has been made of King striving for critical recognition, for acknowledgment of the stylistic improvement of his prose and the increasing sensitivity and naturalism of his writing. I'd say he should be commended for trying something much harder than the easy cash-in. Many (most?) authors would have taken the easy path. Instead King is taking chances and achieving things many considered beyond him. I'm impressed, and quite enjoyed this book.

Not a lot of blog posting lately, though (as usual when I go silent on here) that doesn't mean life came to a complete halt. So what have I been up to?

Since before Thanksgiving I've been sick off and on. Mostly on. I rarely get sick, so this was pretty frustrating. Every little hint of recovery was followed by another setback. Ended up going to the doctor twice, and trying four different prescriptions and a shopping basket full of over-the-counter meds. Mostly better now, but I'm definitely not going to rush back to full activity. Still taking it easy as far as exercise, and making sure to sleep every night.

Been writing pretty steadily. For every early morning session I've missed (making sure to get enough sleep), I've managed to add an evening session (skipping my workout), and continued my most important Sunday writing marathons. I spent much of the last month or so crafting something to order for a themed, invitation-only anthology. Now, getting an invitation doesn't mean your story definitely gets accepted, and I know there are plenty of other really strong writers who were also invited to submit. So I'm keeping my fingers crossed on that one. The good news is that I was able to create one of my best stories ever, and learned a lot from the process, both writing "to order" and following specific notes and suggestions from the editor.

Aside from that, I have at least two stories "short listed" in submission. Being short listed can mean just about anything, from "Your story is among six from which we'll choose five to publish," to "Our slush readers forwarded us 25 stories this month, from which we'll choose three." In other words, sometimes being short listed means your odds are really high, and other times it means they're better than they were when you first submitted, but still not a sure thing. I've been short listed many times before and ended up rejected (or seen the magazine fold before they published any of the stories they were choosing from), so I'm hopeful, but not getting carried away. The best news is that this seems to be happening more and more often. A much higher percentage of my stories is making is past the slush pile and into the hands of the top editors.

It's also fun to check out Duotrope's listings for the markets where you've submitted, and see where they are in terms of dealing with their slush pile. If a magazine has had a story of mine for 30 days, and you can see on Duotrope that the same magazine is rejecting a bunch of stories they've only had for 10 or 15 or 20 days, then you can guess that they've seen your story (since they generally read things oldest to newest) and that this is roughly equivalent to making it past the slush reader. Some magazines never tell you "our slush readers are recommending your story to the top editor" or "you've been shortlisted," but you can sort of figure it out by reading the tea leaves on Duotrope. If you're a writer submitting stories to open markets, and you're not checking out Duotrope.com, you really should be.

Last writing news is that I'm trying to put together another story for a different themed anthology, but this one's open, not invitation. It'll be tough to get something done on time (the deadline's not too far off) but I'm still working on it.

Other than that, I've been reading an awful lot, but two of my recent books have been over 1,000 pages each so a lot of pages read doesn't translate to a lot of books read. I'll start posting reviews again soon. I'm really looking forward to taking on a few 200-300 pages books!