Chasing the First Sale (Part 3): Becoming a Student of the Job

"All artists are willing to suffer for their work, but why are so few prepared to learn to draw?" —Banksy

I grew up loving stories. Not in a normal way; I loved them so much it hurt. It wasn't enough just to enjoy them; I had to own them, imitate them, and—eventually—create some of my own. No matter what I did with my life, I knew telling stories was going to be part of it. I wanted to write for comics, for video games, for the screen. But like a would-be musician desperately wanting to "be in a band," I had to learn an instrument first. Short stories were the first instrument I picked up. If you're reading this, maybe they're your first instrument too.

WHY SHORT STORIES?

That's right. One step at a time, little guy.
Wait. Is that the new Guitar Hero controller?!
...

Because they're a good first instrument to learn. You can't make a career writing short stories—sadly, those days are gone—but they can teach you most of what you need to know to write in other capacities later on. They teach you, first and foremost, how to tell a story. They teach you how to format a manuscript, how to submit to editors, how to deal with rejection and—occasionally—success.

For example, what do you do when an editor says, "It's great, but I hate the ending. Make it better. I'm not going to tell you how, but if you're up to the challenge, I'll buy it." (Big gulps, huh? Welp. See ya later.) Aren't you glad you aren't going through that with a novel your first time out? Aren't you glad it's just a story you have to fix? Learn to fight the battles in short form so you'll know what to do when you have to fight them in long form; if you learn your lessons well, when that times comes it will be a (not-so-simple, but simpler) matter of adjusting what you already know.

Short stories are a proving ground. They let you get out there, try a bunch of things out, and make your mistakes small so you don't have to make all of them big. When I hear an unpublished writer talking about the epic fantasy trilogy they're going to write, my first thought (other than, "Man, I remember that phase.") is, "What a shame." Not because I don't believe they can someday do it, but because they're trying to play to a stadium crowd without learning a G chord first. Practice in the garage, play some local shows, then bigger shows, etc. Don't be the guy or gal with thirty unpublished novel fragments taking up hard drive space. Be realistic, even if it hurts. Look at where you are, own it, and grow from there.

So how do you grow? How do you learn that G chord?

LEARN THE BASICS

You start (I'm abandoning the music metaphor now) by making sure you've got English down. This means grammar, punctuation, the works. I can hear you groaning from here, but I'm serious. If you aren't sure where commas go, how to use a semicolon, when to write in past-perfect, what the subjunctive mood is (and why or why not to use it), learn that shit. I was fairly fortunate in that most of this stuff came easily to me. The tangles I found along the way (and the tangles I continue to find), I comb out, first by googling them to make sure I have them right, then by drilling them in my brain until they're second nature. Every time [problem x] comes up, a bell goes off in my brain, followed by a little voice that says, "That's that thing you've been doing wrong; you just did it again. Stop it. Forever this time."

Sound nuts? Welcome to life as a writer.

If you want to be a pro writer, it should bug the hell out of you when you don't know something. You should make it a point to be as technical as you can stand to be, because the industry doesn't have time for your mistakes, and there are plenty of people who are just as hungry and talented who know and follow the goddamn rules. Know them. Follow them. (Unless you need to break them for some compelling reason, in which case, for god's sake, know why you're doing it.) Don't fail on a technicality before the game even starts.

Here's how nuts I am: I don't even text in improper English. Sure, I swear like a sailor and say the kinds of stupid things we all say, but I capitalize. I put in my apostrophes and commas. I spell out my words. Whether I'm texting, Facebooking, you name it, I make sure to do these things.Why? It's not because I'm a Nazi or because I think my shit don't stink; it's because, when it's time to write something professional, I want it to be effortless, like buckling your seat belt without even realizing you're doing it. Because it's important stuff. I'm a member of a forum called Codex for pro and neo-pro writers. Guess what? It's the only forum I've seen (other than SFWA) where every member can spell, punctuate, etc. It's amazingly refreshing. Now go, and do thou likewise.

"i do it 2 sav time!!!1 itz werth it duh"

And yes, I realize I just painted a big target on my back. I'm human too, and if it'll make you feel cool to point out the typos and errors I've (no doubt) made while writing this blog, knock yourself out. But when you're done schooling teacher in front of the class, I hope you'll remember the point of the lesson. Work hard. Do your best to weed out mistakes. You'll be glad you put in the time, because we're about to get to the harder stuff.

MAKE YOUR FUN ABOUT YOUR WORK

Harder stuff? But the headline has the word "fun" in it!

Changing what you do for fun (or at least paying attention to it in a productive way) can be really difficult. We don't like being told to change our lives, not the least little bit, but that's exactly what I'm about to ask you to do. (I'm being dramatic; this will only sting a little.) Here are some ways you can tweak and transform the things you enjoy to help make you a better writer:

1) Read. For god's sake, read.

First, find some heroes. These will be a few writers you want to emulate, to idolize, to learn all you can from. My heroes are Stephen King, Neil Gaiman, and Orson Scott Card; between the three of them, my awesomeness bases are more than covered. Find your heroes (I'll happily share mine), those writers you find effortless to read, who make your head spin with their brilliance, who become like old friends and teachers. Chances are, you already have some people in mind. It's usually these heroes who inspire us to take up writing in the first place. Never abandon them. Keep them nearby as a measuring stick. Don't aspire to be the best in your school or your critique group or your family. Aspire to be like your heroes. Don't settle for anything less. And, if at all possible, leave open the possibility of looking past your heroes. You may never grow to their level, but who knows? You may grow beyond it.

Once you have some writers to look up to who are doing the kinds of work you want to do, it's time to branch out. Read outside your genre. If you write horror, read westerns. If you write sci fi, read romance. If you write fantasy, read mainstream. Don't camp inside your genre and spend your career reheating Tolkien or Lovecraft. If you want to do anything of lasting value in your genre, you have to bring new things in from outside it.

Read nonfiction. (Documentaries count too.) Read books on history and science and psychology and astronomy and anything else you can get your hands on. Read books on business and marketing (believe me, you'll need 'em). Hell, read books about mathematics. Devour this stuff. Know the world you live in, and you'll have more meaningful things to say about it.

2) Listen to audio books. Wait, isn't that the same as reading? Yes and no. Audio books will teach you something that reading text on a page can't: the music of language. There is a flow to the spoken word, a kind of rhythm that just sounds right when it's done well. I've never heard of anyone being able to teach this in a class room or a workshop. It's a slippery, subjective concept, but an important one all the same. Listening to stories (even nonfiction) read aloud is the only way I know to improve your awareness of this aspect of writing. I'm not even sure you can "pay attention" to this. Just give your ears time with words. (By the way, reading your own work aloud can—almost without fail—instantly improve it. Read everything aloud. You can file that away with your other tricks.)

"These ARE the world."

3) Play roleplaying games, video or tabletop. I don't give this piece of advice lightly, and it's not without its dangers. Roleplaying games use numbers to create a model of the world, which in turn allows you to simulate anything you could possibly imagine. Kinda. This is the danger—not that you will lose your soul or become a satanist or something similarly ridiculous—that you will lose your worldview to that model, and with your worldview, you'll lose any chance you had of being a truly creative individual. You'll drop your keys and say, "Oops. Failed my Dex check." You'll wonder what level or alignment the characters in your story are.

That's a HUGE red flag. If you start rolling up character sheets for the characters in your stories, you'll know you're in too deep. I've seen this happen. I've seen smart, potentially creative people lose themselves in the false limitations of the game. Their fiction becomes rigid, like a cardboard cut-out of a story. Combat drags on. Every story is about a team, one member strong, another stealthy, another magicky, another healy.

God in heaven. Don't. Let. This. Happen to you.

But! If you're careful as hell, there is one wonderful thing roleplaying games can teach you:

The Moment.

Players always want to be doing something. They want a reason to be where they are, they want to know what the next step is, and they want a chance to do something to get there. If you can apply this mentality to your fiction—that every moment should have its own entertainment value, not because it's pretty or clever, but because it's relevant to the journey and it moves—your style (and your readers) will thank you for it. Don't have people walk into a room, say some shit, and walk out again. Put the scene in a cool place, give it some zing, and have the characters do something.

Making up a story on the fly for an audience, being able to gauge their reaction to each event in real time—there are few experiences more valuable as a storyteller. Video games can teach you this same lesson, but you don't have the benefit of sitting in the creator's chair. You have to hold the experience up to a mirror to get the full effect.

Let's say you're writing a fantasy novel about a teenage boy at a swordsmanship school. In this particular scene, your main character needs to ask a female teacher for some dating advice. You could have him go into her office, stand awkwardly by her desk while he spills his guts and talks and talks and talks. OR! You could have him trying to sneak questions in while he's taking his swordsmanship final, dueling the female teacher in the clocktower of the school, jumping between giant cogs, dodging blows, trying not to get killed, trying to land just one strike before the clock strikes twelve. That's a hell of a lot more fun. And it opens up all kinds of story opportunities. He might fail the exam he's so concerned with his girl troubles. He might get injured. He might realize during all the sweaty running around that he's actually (gasp!) attracted to the female teacher!

"I said parry, not thrust."

Mastering "The Moment" isn't just a matter of flavor. When things move in a scene, they bounce around and collide with other things. You could end up with new ideas that take your story to the next level. So don't write a dull moment. This doesn't always mean action; what it means is having an awareness of each moment's entertainment value, each moment's importance and inertia. Learn this well, and you can pick your publisher.

(I'm still working on this myself, and the biggest problem I've had is laziness. It's easy to miss opportunities when you're not putting your all into your writing, allowing yourself to be distracted by life, liberty, and the pursuit of your kids not trashing the house. But that's a whole other blog, folks, written by somebody who ain't me.)

STUDY

Once you're harnessing your free time to better your writing, it's time to learn the nitty-gritty of the craft. There are a few ways to do this well, but one of the cheapest is to read books on writing. I hear a lot of writers talking smack on writing books, saying they don't really teach you anything, that you're only ready to learn what you're ready to learn, that practice is the only way to get better. Almost true. Practice is the best way to get better, but there are some things, especially for new writers, that you shouldn't have to learn through trial and error. Sometimes, it's easier to have someone just tell you. That's what writing books can do for you: they can save you time.

I've read a stack of writing books in my time, and I can tell you, not one of them left me feeling empty. I came away from each with new tools, new perspectives, and new enthusiasm for the job. That's not nothing, ya nay-saying snobs. That's a big something, and I'd like to pass it along to you.

Here are some of the books that taught me the most (and, in many cases, continue to inspire me):

STEVE'S TOP 4 BOOKS ON WRITING
(I ain't gonna pad my list for no man!)

The 38 Most Common Fiction Writing Mistakes
by Jack M. Bickham

This is a great first book if you're new to writing fiction. It's short, simple, and it hits the basics. If writing were basketball, this would be the fundamentals. Dribbling. Passes. etc. I've gone back to this book over and over just to remind myself what's what.
 



The Art of War for Writers
by James Scott Bell

This is the book I pick up when I really need refreshed. It's a beautiful, slickly-designed little tome full of good advice and motivation, and it always gets me excited about making things up and writing them down. This is a fire-extinguisher (and a damn fine piece of instruction as well). In case of burn-out or depression, break glass.

How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy
by Orson Scott Card

If you want to write sci fi or fantasy and you haven't read this, you have to. It's an essential handbook on writing spec fic. I've found none better.

On Writing
by Stephen King

Stephen King is a rare talent. (If you don't like him, fine. But don't be a hater; the man's got chops.) He rarely outlines his books and has an amazing capacity to do things on the fly, and few, if any, of you reading this will reach your potential writing the way Stephen King does. So why is this book important for mortals like us?

First, because of King's staggering and unpretentious skill with language. The whole second half of the book is dedicated to this. If there is a book to teach you the nitty-gritty about the music of words, this is it. The first half of the book is largely biography, etc, but you skip it at your own risk. Why? That's the second thing.

This book is like having a teacher in your brain. Not a list of dos and don'ts, but a REAL human being who just happens to be the most widely-read living writer in the English language. If you skip the first half, it takes the knowledge out of its human context and greatly weakens it.

Lastly, this is a great read. Fast, engaging, personal. It's effortless. You can learn a lot just from that. If you can figure out why on God's green earth this book is so easy to read, that's something big.

STEVE'S TOP 3 SCREENWRITING BOOKS

Wait? Screenwriting books? What about all that stuff about short stories and learning to play your first instrument? I stand by all that stuff, but once you've banged out a decent prose style—through loads of study and practice—screenwriting books become just as valuable as other writing books, if not more so. They can teach you story itself better than almost anything else. Here are my favorites:

The Writer's Journey
by Christopher Vogler

The first chapter of this book will change your life. If you're looking for a perfect formula for good stories, this is probably as close as you'll ever get to finding one.

Save the Cat
by Blake Snyder

This is essential shit all around, but if nothing else, you'll learn to make your reader instantly care about your characters. I can't think of many things more important than that.

Story
by Robert McKee

Everybody I talk to who has read this book swears by it. I'm just now reading it, but I can already tell it belongs on this list. Read it with me. Let me know what you think.

There are lots of other great books on writing. The First Five Pages comes to mind. Also, the Writer's Digest's Elements of Fiction Writing books are a great go-to. Especially don't miss Orson Scott Card's Characters and Viewpoint. Avoid books on manuscript submission, querying, publishing trends, the internet, or any other topic you think might go out of date quickly; it's best stick to blogs and such for that kind of info. For example, if you want to know how to format a story for submission, just google it. (Here: I'll save you the trouble.) Better yet, read each magazine's guidelines. There are also some great books on self-editing, such as The 10% Solution and Self-Editing for Fiction Writers (the chapter on dialogue beats is worth the price of the book by itself).

Gettin' ahead of myself. It's been a long night and one hell of a long, rambling blog post. Thanks for reading through to the end. I've made a mental note to keep things tighter in the future. There's a story about a famous writer who wrote a really long letter, then at the end said, "I apologize for the long letter; I didn't have time to write a short one." I can relate.

Be sure to check in next time when we'll talk about what could prove to be a very important aspect of your learning to write well, becoming a part of the writing community, and getting your first toe in the publishing door (it was for me): Audition-only workshops! It's a big topic that deserves its own post, and I'm looking forward to it. We'll see you in two weeks for "Chasing the First Sale (Part 4): Attending Audition-Only Workshops."

Day Six: Uncle Orson's Literary Boot Camp (Farewell)

I really need to get to sleep. I'll write a longer blog post about the final day tomorrow. Topics will be as follows:

How much I hate Jessica for selling her overnight story outright. How tired I was of reading and critiquing. How many of us are going to go home and write novels based on what Mr. Card told us.

Coming soon.

Here are some pictures of the camp on my facebook. Right HERE. There you go. More tomorrow. Again, sorry for the short post. I've been enjoying talking with my boot camp buddies for the last time in person, maybe ever, instead of writing.

More boot camp thoughts and stories to come.

Day Five: Uncle Orson's Literary Boot Camp (More Critiquing)

Today has been another hard day. It's been critiques all day long. Story after story, reading, letting people talk, reading, letting people talk. It's great in one way, because we've all reached the point where certain subjects and observations (some that hadn't even occurred to me before this week) have become so elementary that they are groan-worthy if mentioned. Even Mr. Card has gotten a little impatient with revisiting some of the same things over and over. The group developed a few bad habits and patterns yesterday, and today, Scott kinda set us straight. He was doing something that had to be done, and he wasn't a jerk, but he was firm. "Don't talk if you have nothing to add" was basically the point of it. But it was kind of one of those "Teacher is on edge, so be good" kind of moments.

We're all tired. Today, it seemed like feelings got hurt a little easier. Some of the insecurity was back. The defensiveness, the preoccupation with praise, etc. I felt it too. The desire to explain, to defend my story or my ability, was really strong and I had to fight to keep things in perspective. All in all, today was less nourishing "spiritually," but the value was still there. It was more about pushing through, doing the work. Endurance, perception, discipline. Equally useful, but not as "fun." But even in the less friendly, happy, yay-boot-camp attitude, Scott's critique's and suggestions were right on.

The encouraging part today was just how much better at seeing problems I am. Point of view, invention, exposition: HUGE. And I wasn't nearly so good at recognizing this stuff before. And I'm a lot more focused on my career as a writer. The urgency is almost unbearable (if it weren't for the fatigue, I'd be writing every chance I got, on breaks, lunch, etc). I look at my perspective before, and I was just throwing my time away to whoever would take it. "Collaborate with me, please, just acknowledge that I'm a writer. PLEASE." I should have been writing. Rusty, Tim, Couch, David, and db readers: this does not mean I'm abandoning all my projects, but it does mean writing career-advancing material is first. FIRST. After Lynna and Lex, there is the writing. It's how it has to be. I haven't been acting like this is what I really want to do, and I haven't been acting like I believe I can do it.

ENOUGH. DICKING. AROUND.

Like I said, today I've kinda felt like a grape in a press. I feel really serious and tense, but it's useful. I just don't have any fun stories for you, really. Except, let's do this:

Here is the beginning to a story I started up here and abandoned for reasons of difficulty and length. If you really need more to read after this blog, check it out HERE.

It's worth pointing out that I wrote this BEFORE all the learning, so it won't be much (if any) better than my previous stuff. Beyond that, I'm sorry I can't be bubbly. I'm running out of steam. It's exhausting to be confronted with mistakes over and over and over and to just WANT them to be right (in others' work and in my own). I know how editors feel now and how Orson Scott Card must feel. And it isn't a good feeling. But that, the fact that I'm at that point, that it hurts...that's good. :)

Gotta go. Gotta read five stories before I can sleep.

Day Four: Uncle Orson's Literary Boot Camp (Critiques)

This day has been awesome, but I'll say that right now, at 3:17 a.m. as I begin this post, I am at a low. I'm exhausted and I miss my family terribly.

This morning I almost slept through class. It started at 10:30 and I woke up at 10:20. Cutting things a little close, but that's okay. I was the very first story we critiqued, and they ripped me a new one. I'll talk more about that later when I'm not so dead. Let's just say, I take criticism of my work well, but it was hard to sit there silently and just let people dissect you. At the end of my critique, when everyone else had gone around, Orson Scott Card took my clumsy story and showed me how it could be a beautifully fun young adult novel. I think I will write it.

Oh, and Orson Scott Card told me to "turn in my penis." It's a long story, one I'll catch you up on later as well.

Mr. Card and his wife took us all out to an awesome little Italian place in town. I sat right across from him at a table with only four people, and we discussed everything from his fiction to religion to politics. I actually got to the point where I was completely at ease. It's amazing. I feel like we know each other to a certain extent. It was fun to realize that. He really is just a guy, but he remains one of the most creative and talented men I've ever met. His comments on our stories CONSTANTLY blow me away. There's a reason he's teaching this class.

Oh, and his license plate says, "ENDER." I discovered that too. Made me smile.

So, apparently a bunch of the other boot campers were trying to figure out who wrote "Early Birds" because it was their favorite. That makes me happy. I wish my actual workshop story had been that well written and received. But today kind of beat the grabby-ness for attention out of everybody. We're too tired to pose. I'm too tired to do anything. Heh. I have to read about eight 5000-8000 word stories tomorrow during lunch breaks. Never going to happen. My reading speed is CRIPPLING me. This is the low point: reading all these stories and realizing that I'm just getting through them slower than other people. It's a limitation I need to fix or learn to live with, but right now I'm not sure how I will get through tomorrow. It's pretty discouraging, but the WRITING aspect is really good. And the LEARNING is going great. I'm just learning my weaknesses, and it stings.

Anyway, I'm not sure if anything above was coherent, but I'm off to bed.

Peace.

Day Three: Uncle Orson's Literary Boot Camp (Writin' Day)

This is gonna be short, people. I'm fading fast.

Today, I started work on my story, got 3,000 words in (about twelve pages) before I decided that I didn't like it. I pulled the ripcord and started over with a totally different idea. I wrote another 2,700 words, which became the completed story we will be critiquing tomorrow. (All of us have stories. Mine is one of seventeen.) The first 3,000 words took me roughly seven hours, while the last 2,700 took me just over two. Improvement? Yes. Oh, yeah. And the story is better too. Not blast-you-across-the-room good, but good. I'm glad I had the guts to make the decision I made. WAY better stuff. But you guys can read my crap at some point too. It's not unamusing.

The big thing is, though, I wrote almost 6,000 words today. At 250 words a page, that's 24 pages. And that's a lot for fiction. If I remember right, Stephen King aims for 5,000 words in a day. Of course, those are his NORMAL wednesdays. But it was a lot for me. It stretched me. I'm better for it. I'm also typing with my eyes closed right now. I'm probably going to open them and find that my hands have been in the wrong place the whole time. Nope. Sweet.

Aside from the writing, there's little to report. (Mr. Card was not around today.) I keep meeting cool people. Artists who work on movies, doing everything from matte paintings to concept art. Account managers who aren't boring. Massage therapists whose talents I wasn't lucky enough to enjoy. A guy who SERIOUSLY looks exactly like a young Bruce Campbell. Oh, and Ken showed me some awesome parkour videos. Again, I peed. He's probably going to post db on a big parkour forum. Oh and Ed, the editor for IGMS, asked to see "She Who Lies in Secret." He warned me it's not a guarantee or anything, but it's worth a shot. So I'll be sending that off when I get home.

Beyond that, I've got nothing. Still having a great time. Still learning. Everybody has mellowed out. We aren't so concerned with proving to each other that we're the real thing anymore. We've accepted ourselves and each other a little more completely. And it's good. The level of "please think I'm cool" displayed on the first day would have killed me if I'd had to experience a week of it. Oh, and Ken showed me that my wrist pain probably has a lot to do with neck and back issues. So I'll be seeing a chiropractor as soon as I can. A good one, if I can manage it. The paragraphs in this post no longer have unified themes. No need to indent to say good-bye, I suppose. Good-bye.

Day Two: Uncle Orson's Writing Class (Radness Abundant)

I neglected to mention that yesterday, I ended up in a river. Our assignment was to go out, explore, see the world, and glean some story ideas from the experience. I told my partner, "You know. I'm going to go jump in there." So I did. Did I gain anything? Meh. A little story idea. Not the one I'm going to use. Still, I got soaking wet in all my clothes (an old classic revisited) and I thought that was worth mentioning.

We were also assigned to interview someone and make a story out of something that came up in conversation. I was walking around downtown Lexington, scanning for potential victims when I saw it: a cozy, little shop that sold Celtic stuff. I practically ran through the door (the sign said they were about to close). The result was a half-hour conversation with an Irish woman, her Welsh Corgi, and her Scottish husband. She commented on my name and treated me like one of her own kind. It was awesome. And I'm writing my story based on this. (VERY loosely based on this. I promise you won't recognize it.)

The night went on. Junk happened. I worked until 3:00 a.m.

Now we actually come to today: I skipped breakfast. Not worth it, I was too tired. I went straight to class in a t-shirt and flip-flops. Pretty soon, we were discussing the story cards we had written the night before. My group was really jazzed about mine. People treated me differently after hearing my idea. Handshakes and high fives and stunned silences abounded. Granted, these are supportive people, but even translating it to a normal, sane response-level, I could tell my story wasn't poop. Which was good.

But now I will tell you something completely subjective and arrogant and totally unprovable: I don't think there is anyone here who is a flat-out better writer than I am (with the obvious exception). There are some really good writers, but I never feel outgunned. I never feel talked down to or ignored. I feel, in some ways for the first time, like I am exactly where I am supposed to be, at exactly the right time. Or maybe I'm just having so much fun, it's easy to be positive and confident. But please, don't get the impression that I am saying there isn't a huge bucket-load of talent here. There is. I just feel like I belong...uh...inside the bucket. Too.

Self-congratulation ended. Moving on.

I met a really cool Taiwanese guy named Kenneth Kao. I guess it would be more accurate to say his PARENTS are Taiwanese; he was born in the states. Kenneth has family who are mafia on one side and missionaries on the other. He is younger than me, but he's already a chiropractor with his own practice. Also (drawn bad readers will know why) I COMPLETELY geeked out when I learned he was a co-founder of a parkour gym in Colorado. He has been a consultant for movies on the subject. And he is a practicing pakourererer. Er. He actually does the stuff, I guess is what I'm trying to get across here. I will, and I mean WILL, be calling this guy after the conference to talk about parkour. In the words of Paul, I peed.

I've met so many cool people. One woman built submarines for ten years and is now a consultant, helping the military improve technology for locating enemy subs. Multi-Static, or some such. She had to stop me from asking questions because, no kidding, the answers to my questions were classified. What the crap?! Another guy, Brock, is an airline pilot and a Mormon (I've run into several--they look like the rest of us). He was in my reading card group (so was Kenneth) and we've had a great time talking and cracking jokes. Brock is always the first one to laugh at anything. His sense of humor doesn't have a warm-up period. Blam, there it is, every time.

After supper tonight, Orson Scott Card did a (I kid you not) FIVE hour Q&A session. I asked as many questions as I could with becoming "that guy." I asked him about "Shadows in Flight" which, sadly, he hasn't started yet. We also got to talk about Gloriously Bright from Xenocide. I've ALWAYS wanted to discuss that story and talk about his religion. And we did. It was incredibly cool. Things I had wondered for years, I just asked the man. And I have possibly delayed future Orson Scott Card titles by recommending Civilization: Revolution to him. He has been playing Civilization 2, and swears he won't play the new one because it will destroy him, but we'll see. By the end of the Q&A, there were only like ten people left and we were all so tired that Scott got very personal and real with all of us, about what life is like being famous(ish), about his family, about writers' depressive personalities, about every little freaking detail of his books (any that we asked about; he won't talk about his fiction otherwise) from what the Formics look like to what a mess it is trying to get a book adapted in Hollywood. It was something I will absolutely, never, ever forget.

By the end of the day tomorrow, my story has to be finished. My next blog entry will likely be VERY short, because I will be a dead man. But I'm going to try to approach this story very casually, to just tell it and get it down (much the way I wrote "She Who Lies in Secret"). It probably will not be my best story, but I like it pretty well and it will be indicative enough of my bad habits to be worth critiquing. And that's what its for. Any of you expecting me to come home with a masterpiece will have to settle for just a story. But I'll try to make it fun to read.

Oh, and one last thing: I got a TON of stuff signed by him. It was geeky, but he didn't act weird about it. I actually have the first copy he ever signed of "Recruiting Valentine." He even wrote "1st ever signed" on it. Pardon me, but that is total radness. And David, your book has been signed. Come get it sometime.

That's all folks. I'll see you all later at the end of my life. I mean, tomorrow.

Day One: Uncle Orson's Writing Class (Brainsplosion)

Today I met Orson Scott Card, and it's crazy, he's just a guy. That's the first impression anyway. You don't have to listen to him for very long before you realize that you are in the presence of one of the greatest minds you will ever encounter. As for what he's like, "Scott" is very funny and warm. He is amusingly self-deprecating. He is patient and lets people talk, but he owns the room. He never has to tell you to be quiet. When he needs you to be, somehow you just are. And he can be totally brutal. He doesn't tip-toe around the mistakes you make. He stomps them like cockroaches. And that's good. It makes his compliments mean something.

Speaking of which (you guys will love this):

Scott said that there were so many good entries this year, he could have held two boot camps. The competition was really stiff. The fact that I made it means more than I thought. Also, after listening to him systematically DESTROY both first-person and present-tense during our length discussion of viewpoint, I couldn't help but laugh. My entry had been BOTH. And it was about ZOMBIES! When we read through the boot camp entries in class, Scott's first comment was "Did you notice there was some first-person, present-tense in there? But what did you think? Not a bad story, eh?" And he looked right at me. (At least I like to think he did. There was only one other first-person, present-tense story, and I liked mine better.)

I asked him later why I was allowed in, even though my entry went against his "rule." He said, "Because I wanted to know what happened. Sometimes first-person present-tense can work, and this worked." It's not like he told me I was the next Bradbury or anything, but he looked me in the eye and treated me like a writer. How did that feel to me personally, deep down in my little writer's marrow? Nothing short of historic.

First day of class = WORTH EVERY PENNY.

We did a thousand ideas session that ended up being about a woman who scuba dives in sewage. We ran out of time before we could nail down all the reasons, but we came up with some crazy stuff as a group. I liked my idea, but it got swallowed up in a billion others and eventually smothered to death.

Anyway, I better wrap this up. I'm still working on my assignment that has to be done by 9 a.m. I have to come up with FIVE complete stories summaries. Not ideas or hooks. Full. Summaries. Stories with a beginning and an ending. It's harder than it sounds, especially if you don't want them to suck. I've got four so far. It's a madhouse in my brain right now: Divorce ceremonies. Killer snowballs. Wild gods who have been too long without masters. A man in a suit and tie standing in a river. My imagination is running some funky tracks, but I think that's good.

But I gotta go. Assignment. Sleep. Get butt kicked some more.

Good times.

(One final thing I am learning: ENDURANCE. I have LONG since passed the point where I would usually think I was too tired and quit. It's nice to know those limitations are false.)

Day Zero: Arrival

Today, I learned that the area around Tulsa looks like a giant circuit board from the air. The plane was apparently on lone from The Shire, and I had to practically crawl to get in the thing. Thankfully, they sat me next to a kid, so there was no fighting over elbow room. The next flight I wasn't so lucky. The plane was large, but so was the man sitting next to me. I did the only thing I could and made friends with him, appealed to his sense of brotherhood and fatness. Our conversation was enjoyable. It kept my mind off of the uncomfortable seat, and the knowledge that Lynna and Lex were falling farther and farther behind me.

The day started at 5 a.m. Yuck. I went in to tell Lex good-bye and cried when she snuggled up to me. The trip to the airport was surreal. Telling Lynna good-bye was surreal. Before I knew it, the plane had landed in Dallas/Fort Worth and I only had minutes to find my plane. And the airport was HUGE. I tried to remember what I could of the train system in final fantasy IX (it's about the same, actually), and amazingly ended up in the right place in a timely fashion. Good thing too. The plane left early, while my previous flight had been late. Could've been a disaster.

So we're back to the big guy sitting next to me on the 737. We talked about Fight Club and the Dark Tower series. When we landed, I met up with fellow bootcamper Kevin Whaley. Kevin is a soft-spoken dermatologist with a background in chemical engineering. He writes techno-thrillers. I admitted I didn't know what that was. He said, "Crichton." I said, "Oh." And then we shared a cab to Jessica's house.

Jessica is almost mythically small, but she talks and moves as if the rest of the world is in slow motion. She's a career academic. Something about the history of mathematics. Arabic numberals. I asked her if she had ever read XKCD. She said she hadn't and for the second time that day, I wept. (Not really, but it is a real shame.)

Jessica drove Kevin and I to the town of Buena Vista, Virginia where the conference is being held. (Ew, passive voice.) The conversation on the trip was interesting. It revealed to me just how different writers can be from each other. Kevin asked us some very goal-oriented questions, about what each of us plan to do in our careers. He also wondered what common elements all the best-sellers have in common. (My answer was clarity and accessability.) We all swapped stories about our younger years, school, family, you name it. It was good to realize that my fellows (and my competition) are just people. I have to admit, though, to feeling like an outsider here. Everyone is so...polished. I'm like a peasant trying to play noble. But I think my swordplay will match up nicely with theirs, when it comes to that. (Writing, I mean. I'm not actually going to stab anyone. That I know of.)

The campus is beautiful. More than I imagined. The main building oozes history. Paintings, grandfather clocks, chandeliers, ballrooms, large wooden staircases...it's freaking Hogwarts. I finally met Kathleen Bellamy, Orson Scott Card's assistant. She was as friendly and helpful in life as in her emails. Kevin and Jessica and I wandered around a bit. We eventually ran into Anna Jordan from Colorado. Anna is a tall, matter-of-fact character with a touch of Dakota in her voice. She's the heiress to a stockyard business and has just one main story she wants to tell, a series of fantasy novels that actually sound pretty interesting. Anna randomly go into the van with us while we drove around downtown Buena Vista and Lexington.

Now I'm about to go to bed. It's only nine, but I'm freaking beat. And I've got to be up by 7:30 for breakfast. All in all, this has already been a huge learning experience, and a positive one. I'll say this though: there is a preoccupation with wealth and fame that I don't buy into, but all in all, things are going good. I know I should end this post with a bang, but I'm tired. So I'm going to bed.

Bang.

Five Hours and Counting

I have to be up in five hours. My bags are packed. I didn't take much. A blanket Mom made me. Some comic books. Ben Folds in the mp3 player. Should be a good flight. There is so much in my brain right now. I wish I had time to spill it all. Instead, I'll keep it in my head and use it for fuel.

See you tomorrow night, same time, same place.