Today two of my friends asked me to join them (as well as a group of other people) to read through the Fine Print submissions. Every year the little college I attend collects students' short stories and poetry, a bunch of nerdy people read them, and eventually some get collected into a book-bounded form. It was the best thing EVER. It reminds that I totally want to be an agent, even if none of them screamed PUBLISH ME NOW, but there were a couple that said "I actually know how to write, I have potential, please read more of my stuff." Especially the one dude. I probably upped his scores a little bit, just 'cause his was so much better than anything else I had read. There were just a couple of parts I think he could have written stronger, and I know he would agree, so I don't feel bad posting it on the web. Especially because no one knows who I am talking about. (Raspberry Moose!)
This is a moose. He is made of Raspberries.
The thing with poetry is either I love it, or I hate it. There was one poem that I loved, and the other person who looked at it did not love it. So we passed it around. And around. And there ended up being a whole discussion about whether or not it was good enough to put in the Fine Print. My opinion? If you can write anything that gets people choosing sides and trying to persuade others to agree with their point of view, you have done something special. No one else discussed any of the other works. Just that one. So I say publish it. If it gets us talking... Well, you just did something no one else achieved. I take my invisible hat off to you.
This is the antipode of an invisible hat
There was one thing disturbing about the whole event. The one dude and I kept scoring things scarily close. For poems there were four options: clarity, content, form, and impression. I freaked out when we did the one EXACTLY THE SAME. Very weird.
Also, I decided today that I need a new college. [Because as far as I am aware one cannot become an agent without having some form of degree. Sad face.] As depressing as this sounds, it is true. I am tired of being one of the smartest kids in class. Ugh! Disgusting. I am not that good people. I am bored. I can pass a test I did not study for. I can get A's on papers I finish right before class. I refuse to get a degree simply because I can. I want a degree because I worked for it, because I slaved over it, because I nearly died from pure stress in order to achieve it. Maybe that's what graduate school is for? I don't know, it just seems that a senior in highschool is at a higher education level than a freshman's first year at college. What is wrong with that picture, I ask you?
Seriously, what IS wrong with this picture?
Moving on to actual writing things: Today I wrote 4,ooo words. Hoorah! I wanted 8,ooo, but we all knew that wasn't going to happen, so I kept my hopes at 2,ooo. I beat my score! Hopefully this means I can finish the sequel before the month ends, but I don't know. I still got a ton left. I still have about half the novel left. Sadness. Despair. Lack of cookies.
This fish is sad he has no cookies
The kitten is sad he has no brains
(Take THAT EB! I have your kitten trapped, trapped I say, bwahahahahahaha >:)
In conclusion all I have to say is that I MUST send out a query this month, I must, I must.
26 comments:
This is a moose. He is made of Raspberries.
Ewww. Luckily, it looks rather like a Chocolate Moose, to which I say, Yummm.
As for the pic with 28 things wrong: The horse is plowing with no person guiding him. The wind is blowing the trees one way and the smoke the other. The shadow from the gate is different from the other shadows. The curtains are on the outside of the window. I am going to find them all!
So...was this same-scoring guy cute?
Okay... Deep breath. I've put off mentioning this because anyone can make an honest mistake, but it's time. You're an aspiring professional writer and lamenting that you're too smart for your college. Which I believe, by the way, because you seem super-danged smart and you prove regularly to have a voice worth reading. However, I'm thus all the more surprised to see the possessive "your" rather than the contraction "you're" at the top of this comments box. Typos or missed capitals in posts, even if not a stylistic choice, are one thing as I figure you dash them off relatively casually; you'll have a much harder time finding an agent if you're sloppy on the technical side of things in any kind of serious or lasting writing, though, because poor first impressions often don't lead one to look deeper to check if the talent involved overcomes. I'm sorry to call you out in public like this, Naomi, but there's no E-mail link on your blogs. Lecture over. 8^)
PS: I mean, come on, you pulled "antipode" out of your tush, for goodness' sake.
The gate has no hinges! The sheep in front has three legs. One sheep has a black tail. The horse is going the wrong direction.
I once got up in front of a group of people in a university course and used the word "stigmata" when I meant to say "stigma".
TWICE.
Joan Crawford, ladies and gentlemen, playing the blogging equivalent of the biathlon: "What's Wrong With This Picture and Embarrassing Things I Did in College".
Ha! Oh, I haven't begun to reveal the really embarrassing things I have done yet.
About the picture: The wheelbarrow only has one wheel, the house has a door stoop but no door, the trees say it is spring/summer but the guys are harvesting.
28 things?! I am a woman possessed!
I was actually watching the biathlon today and I think it's right up my alley. (except for the skiing part)
D'oh! I guess wheelbarrows usually only have one wheel. I am so desperate for the answers, I am skewing reality!
VW:Acticksl
What you say when you are being tickled. "Stop! Acticksl!"
There are 5 slats on the gate but only 4 lines on the shadow.
The Ms. Aching Hope has written that she has my kitten trapped. I doobt this very much, eh. Does her reach extend to the Otherworldly Dimension of Canada? Does she possess the skill to bypass the wards, runes, and combination locks that guard my store of aliments? Does she think that I would dine upon such an ugly representation of felinity, which has clearly had the brains bred straight oot of it and likely been slapped repeatedly head-on with a fish? Eh?
... Verification word: And not a pitiful fish of the sort depicted bereft of its cookies, but something akin to a sturdy frozen mackerel.
And take heed, eh, you who call yourself Blam: That is how you spiritually eviscerate a woman-child! Grammar? Grammar?!? In the words of one of my most cherished grandmatrons, "Bitch, please."
Twenty-eight things are wrong with this picture. Can you spot them?
#1-19: All of the sheep are alive.
#20: Noobody has kicked the cane oot from under the hand of the old man.
#21: Accoording to the caption, there are twenty-eight things wrong with the picture, but I have tired of this game after twenty, eh, and blame the picture.
I hate it when I can't get back to the internet for so long. I feel like five years have passed and I'm standing at an awkward reunion trying to catch up with everyone.
@Blam: AH! I hate when I do that! I will fix that paste-host! Host-paste! No. Seriously. Post-haste. And I can't fix what I'm doing wrong if no one tells me, so I thank you. *claps hands in appreciation* Though, as for antipode, that is what dictionary.com is for. (Oh, and curious, how do you know my name? I thought I didn't have it posted anywhere??)
@Joan: lol. He's okay, not my kind of palatable ;)
Douf! I can't believe I didn't see that! Wheelbarrows definitely have two wheels. They totally messed that one up.
@Evil Blam: Do you doubt that my reach can extend all the way to your domain? Do you doubt that I can by-pass your wards, runes, and combination locks? Why do you think that the kitten wishes for cookies now instead o' brains?
#1-19: All of the sheep are alive.
#20: Noobody has kicked the cane oot from under the hand of the old man.
#21: Accoording to the caption, there are twenty-eight things wrong with the picture, but I have tired of this game after twenty, eh, and blame the picture.
Hehehehahahahaha!
In the words of one of my most cherished grandmatrons, "Bitch, please."
Bwhaahaha! It is most titillating to watch the Blams at war.
@Joan Crawford: Indeed.
You're welcome. 8^)
(Pssst! Your name is over on Slumpvis Musings twice: "XXXXX's favorite quotes" in the sidebar and the line "I want XXXXX on my team. She's smart." in the Crayon Box post. Please feel free to delete my lecture-comment, though...)
...
VW: siderp — A belch out of the corner of one's mouth.
Stupid Goodreads automatically put up my name. And I don't know how I made suhc a major slip up... Though, I'm getting over my paranoid "everyone is going to try and stalk me" phase.
You do realize that by continuing to ask me to delete your comment will only make me want to copy and paste it everywhere, just to annoy you (if I think it really will annoy you). I do not take offense easily (unless you talk about politics. Or theology. Theology makes me throw shoes at people. Honest, I've thrown a shoe at someone before for talking about armini.. whatever...)
Siderp... Ahahahahahahaha...
@everybody: Please stop writing such hysterically funny things. I have now started coughing up a lung and may need someone to come do CPR....
@Sonshine: When you hack up your lung can you take a picture of it, because I've always wondered what a hacked up lung would look like.
Though, I'm getting over my paranoid "everyone is going to try and stalk me" phase.
Maybe that's a good thing. 'Cause if I wanted to, I'd Google "AchingHope" with your first name and, ta-dah, find out your last name when your Twitter account came up. 8^) Stalker, hunt thyself to best cover thy tracks!
You do realize that by continuing to ask me to delete your comment will only make me want to copy and paste it everywhere, just to annoy you (if I think it really will annoy you).
And by "continuing to ask" you mean bringing it up exactly once? [I'm not on your case as an editor this time, just confused.]
@Blam: I truly am the worst stalker ever. And I have no idea what I meant, because lately my brain has been in this mode it goes through at least three times a year, where everything is a fog and I struggle just to type down words in the right order. Forget about making sense! Making sense is for...um...people?
*GASP!!* That means if someone googled "AchingHope" they could find my old xanga account... Crackers. I need to delete that thing.
I have no idea what a Xanga is. Were it to come up as word verification, I would guess "playing Jenga on Xanax". And I'm not going to Google you up there, but if you don't want others to do so, this is probably the kind of thing shouldn't be saying "out loud" on your blog. 8^)
VW: auxuxe — The ukeleles reserved for emergencies.
Okay, I have two pieces of advice on paranoia and anonymity:
(1) If some folks know your online handle, don't assume it provides anonymity. And even if nobody does, if you ever plan to ease into using your real name or sharing personally identifying characteristics then don't say anything you wouldn't later mind attributed to yourself. I never went anonymous on the 'Net for nefarious purposes, but when I first got into the comics biz professionally I had an anonymous account (like most posters) in addition to my "real" personal one so that I could discuss content and creators openly without having my opinions (pro and con) make me seem less than objective or hurt the feelings of people I knew (as opposed to spill secrets and gossipmonger).
(2) If exposing yourself genuinely worries you then you probably shouldn't be posting. There was recently a huge discussion on a chat list to which I belong about having the list and archives be open to anybody or just members, keeping in mind that anybody can become a member. As I think you know from a recent blogpost of mine, I've had negative experiences with harrassment via modern technology, and I argued in vain that the members who wanted to keep things closed were laboring under a false sense of security. People who want to find information about you and abuse it will do so.
Now, I think there's a middle ground between being ridiculously open about your personal life and operating under complete cover of darkness such that even your best friend doesn't know that you're DoctorSyzygy47, and after some hard thought I arrived at using my real name in part to reconnect with old acquaintances.
It doesn't mean that concern over something strange happening is truly gone, but ultimately I'd rather live my life.
VW: werea — Lycanthropes who transform into the first letter of the alphabet.
I once was very much paranoid, but I've come to the point where everything I say online is what would say in real life, anyway, so I'm not truly concerned anymore (though I don't post my address and directions on how to get to my house, because THAT would be stupid)
I thank you for your words of wisdom, and will keep them in mind. :)
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