As the famous saying goes, it ain’t over till it’s over.
After my mediocre showing in Q3, with its debilitating heat during both the Pacific Northwest Heat Dome and the hot-hot east coast where I later fled home expecting cooler climes, I was determined to finish the year on a positive note.
Ah, the irony!
Having last month complained about wordcount conventions for aspiring authors, particularly the idea that their books should be as short as possible, I’m now devoting even more words to this topic.
For the past three months, I’ve been working on an R&R for an agent.
In part this has been to improve my novel’s wordcount.
What a difference three months makes.
Or perhaps more accurately, what a difference one week makes.
Is art—in particular, writing—meant to be representative or aspirational?
On Twitter, where I admittedly spend more time than is probably recommended, the issue of representative vs. aspirational writing comes up often, if not necessarily using these exact terms.
The year is now half over.
At the time of writing this, I’m also half-vaccinated.
The character Magneto from X-Men
I’ve been thinking about how magic is often represented in fantasy.
I’ve written previously about how many SFF stories (poorly) represent post-racial societies. My issue with magic is a close cousin to that topic.
I recently learned that some readers start a new book by first reading the end.
To clarify, I’d always heard that some people do this.
However, it wasn’t until I read the comments on a recent Twitter post about content/trigger warnings vs. spoilers in books and whether they represent the same thing that I came to realize just how many people do this, and also some of the reasons why.
The first quarter of the first full year of the Covid-19 global pandemic is now over.
Setting and achieving your goals during a pandemic is a delicate balance. Always with goal-setting you want to find the sweet spot between ambitious and realistic, between things that will challenge you but you’ll still actually be able to do.
Drafts of all three books in my proposed trilogy (and a single sheet of paper to spare!)
Experts are adamant that you shouldn’t do it.
When you’ve written the first book in a series that you want to have traditionally published—or rather a book that has “series potential”, to use the correct querying parlance—they say you absolutely should not write a sequel (or sequels) until the first book is sold.