AWCS Open Mic Night, Jan. 30

Top ten reasons to attend the first open mic of 2013.

1. Hang out with the emcee, a delightful individual prone to verbal gaffes, furious blushing, and cosplay (most recently, a bumblebee).

2. Connect with other writers. We're not so odd once you get to know us - or maybe we are, but I think of it as part of our charm.

3. You don't have to read if you don't want to.

4. If you do want to read, it's a super-duper relaxed, super-duper supportive atmosphere.

5. Wednesdays are boring. Open Mic is fun.

6. Owl's are scary. Help me work through my (apparently ridiculous) phobia.

7. Regular reading is good for your writing.

8. We're open to all kinds of material. Fiction, non-fiction, poetry, plays, songs, confessions, space operas, diary entries, noir, romance, satire, history, tentacles, paranoid cyberpunk etc. We'd love to hear it.

9. Owl's Nest is an outstanding bookstore that does a tremendous lot to support the writing community. They also have terrific people who can point you toward a great book.

10. GOODIES and WINE provided!


Everyone welcome! Hope to see you there!


When: Wednesday, January 30 @ 7pm
Where: Owl's Nest Books 815A - 49th Avenue SW, Calgary
Emcee: Sarah Johnson (that's me, the owl-fearing bumblebee)

They've acknowledged my existence!

I got a rejection today. Nothing special. Just one more to chuck on the mounting pile. I don't know how many rejections I've received. There's a spreadsheet keeping track of such things somewhere on my computer.  I estimate it's less than a squillion and a lot more than I could count with my socks off.

Suffice it to say, I've been rejected a lot. Enough that I don't get sulky about it anymore, unless it's a market I had particularly high hopes for. Then I allow myself an hour or two of sullen b*tch face. You gotta feel your feelings, yo.

This morning, however, I reacted to a rejection in a wholly unexpected way. I was happy. For real. It wasn't personalized. In fact it was the formiest of form rejections. You know the type,"Dear Author…". No, I was happy, because for the first time in months and months, I got a response from one of the markets I'd submitted to.

I know publishing is a game of hurry up and wait. I know mags are understaffed, with a budget of zero dollars and all the rest. I know that as a writer, all I can do is submit my best work and hope the right person reads it at the right time.

But dang if it isn't frustrating at times.

There, I said it.

It feels like the kind of thing we're not supposed to say. Our work languishes in the slush for months on end and we're supposed to accept that with serenity and grace and never ever get impatient. Well I admit that I do get impatient. I want what I want, and I want it right now. Maybe this extended period of radio silence is meant to teach me a lesson. Maybe it already has.

That rejection letter didn't even have my name on it, yet it made me smile. Written confirmation that I'm still here. I'm still trying. I'm still a writer.

Flabby Stories - My Word Loss Journey, Part 2

Welcome to part two, the Hydroxycut after-pic of my previously portly story. This picture actually has nothing to do with editing, or stories, or writing…in fact it's completely irrelevant. I just think it's funny, and representative of how I feel whenever I'm awake.

You may recall that I'd challenged myself with chopping a 4700-word story down to 3500. It wasn't easy, but thanks to the invaluable assistance of my critique partner whom I adore to the point of impropriety...

We are down to 3476 words. Oh yeah!

This morning, the story and I sat down and had a conversation. The transcript is as follows:

Me: So, Story? How do you feel now that we've surpassed our word-loss goal?

Story: HUNGRY. I HATE YOU.

Me: C'mon, baby. Don't be like that.

Story: *stony silence*

Me: Well I think you read great. Tighter. Improved pacing. More tension. That's gotta feel good, right?

Story: I WANT MY EXTRA 24 WORDS BACK.

Me: I don't think I like your attitude. I did this for you. Maybe a couple weeks in the drawer will help you understand that.

Story: DON'T YOU TOUCH ME.

Me: Look, I can see we're in a weird place right now. Maybe we should take some time and--

Story: I THINK YOU HAVE A SUBMISSION TO PREPARE.

Me: Are you sure you're ready?

Story: I GUESS…but if I'm rejected, can I come back home?

Me: "Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in." That's Robert Frost.

Story: YOU READ A POEM? I THINK I MIGHT FAINT.


There you have it folks. An untidy ending. I'd hoped my story would shower me with gratitude and we'd live happily ever after. Overall, I feel good about what I've done, but there's a part of me that wonders. Did I cut too deep, nick a vital organ, transect the aorta? I suppose time will tell.

Flabby Stories - My Word Loss Journey

I have a short story that after several drafts, weighs in at an obese 4700 words. I want to submit it to a mag that has a firm upper limit of 3500 words (fascists). This is a daunting challenge. We need to lose 1200 words. That's 25% of the story. That's not just putting your head on the chopping block, but your shoulders and arms too.

Except it's not the head, shoulders and arms that need to come off. Those are useful parts with a purpose. So are legs and torsos. Cutting them off isn't a healthy way to reach one's goal weight. With that in mind, I've decided to put my story on a strict cabbage-water diet and reduce at the cellular level.

Cue dramatic editing montage with black coffee, crumpled papers, feral children, overturned whiskey tumbler, 3am crying jag etc.


The results so far...

Fatty adverbs, incinerated
Bloated dialogue, deflated
Indulgent similes, jettisoned
Even the leanest adjectives have gone into hiding (I suspect the spleen is aiding these refugees)

In all, we've metabolized 850 words. My story is in ketosis, feeding off its own meat. We fit into our size 6 jeggings. But we're still overcount by 350 words. It's time to introduce exercise. Deep knee bends, sit ups, and running in a hefty bag at high noon. We're going to turn up the thermostat.

If the furnace is hot enough, anything will burn*. Even those last 350 words.

Stay-tuned for the 'after' photo.


*Please don't burn books. Book-burning bad.