The Care and Feeding of a Story

Let me tell a story about caring for and feeding your writing. 

"Wanting It" is one of my favorite stories to date. Like Ramsey Campbell, what keeps me going is the idea that I haven't yet written my best story, but "Wanting It" makes me a proud papa. I'm working with a student who struggles with writing because he wants it to be "perfect" the first time. It never is.

"Wanting It" began life as a feeling more than an idea. I wrote it during spring, 2010--several hundred thousand words and more than three years after beginning my writing journey. My heart ached. I was missing something, but I couldn't put my hands around "what" was missing. "Wanting It" began with longing, and there were tears when I wrote the story. It's biographical without telling details from my life--other than the protagonist's first name. Thanks, Tim O'Brien, for that trick.

I edited and polished and sent the story to Ken Wood at Shock Totem on April 26, 2010. I'd come to a place in my writing where I knew stories needed to start at the top no matter the odds. I found a rewrite request in my inbox on June 17. I read Ken's email several times. I looked at my story. I tried to find the "confident writer" he described hearing in the last few pages. I did what I could to tighten the story, had three friends read it and provide feedback, and sent it back.

The good people at Shock Totem liked it, but liked parts of my first version better. Ken and I began a back and forth discussion about what to change, where to change, how much or how little to change, keep, crop, blend... We exchanged several messages about what to call a guy's butt--not because we didn't know, but what would the narrator say? Ass? Rump? Buttocks? Yes, we had that conversation.

After months of writes and re-writes, Shock Totem #3 came out with "Wanting It" in the line up.

But "Wanting It"'s story wasn't over. It still isn't. The story garnered some nice reviews, including this one from Joshua Jabcuga (Bookgasm):

"I was genuinely moved by Polson’s entry, one about nostalgia and memories, and as some of us know, these ghosts of what-was or what-can-never-be-again can create the most haunting experiences of our lives, the kind that no amount of beer can drown, no pill can numb, and the type where no amount of distance or time will help us escape from it... horror at its finest."

Horror at its finest? Thanks, Joshua. Thanks Ken and the Shock Totem crew. "Wanting It" went on to land an honorable mention in Ellen Datlow's Best Horror of the Year volume 4 (my name was even mentioned in the year in review--this small town kid is humbled). Yes, hundreds of stories receive honorable mentions each year, but the four I've garnered mean so much to me. They're my own little black ribbons.

So what do I tell this student?

Keep writing. Nothing is ever finished. Ever.

(And if you've never read a page of Shock Totem, start now.)

My Stories

I woke this morning to an email from Shock Totem's editor-in-chief Ken Wood. It seems "Wanting It" from Shock Totem #3 made Ellen Datlow's list of Honorable Mentions for Best Horror of the Year Volume 4 (2011).  I took a gander at the full list, and it seems two other tales of mine, "Molting Season" from Polluto 7 and "Ngiri's Catch" from Historical Lovecraft, also made the list. An honorable mention hat trick.

Thanks, Ms. Datlow. And thanks as well to Ken Wood and the Shock Totem staff, Adam Lowe and Victoria Hooper of Polluto, and Silvia Moreno-Garcia and Paula R. Stiles, editors of Historical Lovecraft.

Aimee always told me she wished I could stay home and write full time. I just wanted to tell stories, good stories. I wanted her to be proud, too.

I've made "Wanting It" available to read as a PDF for free. Simply click the link below. It's one of my favorite stories, and one which really strikes at the hurt which has burrowed into my chest.

Download "Wanting It"

I hope you're proud, Ziggs. These are for you, especially "Wanting It"; every night now I feel like I'm alone on the farmhouse floor, waiting for you.

Honorable Mentionings

Yesterday was professional development at school. For those of you outside the education system, "professional development" means someone who doesn't know any more than you do comes and tells you how to do something you probably already knew how to do.

That sentence needs editing.

Anyway, I stopped into my classroom during a bathroom break, and (like any good junkie) checked Twitter. It seems one of my little tales made Ellen Datlow's honorable mention list for Best Horror of the Year. Practical jokes aren't fun, but this was for real. I checked. Double-checked.

Yes, "Cargo" from Dark Pages volume 1 was on the list, next to my name. Yes, I've checked it each year since I started writing. Yes the list is very long. This is one of those things folks outside the writing loop don't quite understand. What a lovely early birthday present.

Thanks to Brenton Tomlinson, Alan Baxter, and Blade Red for taking my little story about a strange little girl at the end of the world. And thanks, Ellen, for the mention.

I'm off to Topeka for my first signing today. I will have candy, so at least somebody will talk to me.

Have a glorious day.

WIP Wednesday: Reading Well and (Hopefully) Being Read Well

It's been a long week at my house. Poor Owen has struggled with asthma, allergies, and now a "secondary" infection (bronchitis). He coughs most of the night, keeps his parents up with worry, and looks as pale as a the back of a pre-licked postage stamp.

Thus, my biggest work in progress has been reading from Ellen Datlow's new anthology, Darkness: Two Decades of Modern Horror, in the wee hours of the night. This book, in many ways, was the inspiration for yesterday's post.

Some may remember my thoughts upon reading Peter Straub's lost boy, lost girl. All in all, I was unimpressed. Straub's entry in Darkness, "The Juniper Tree", is nothing short of brilliant. The prose is tighter in the short story, the imagery more startling, the narrative voice dead on. I felt more uncomfortable reading "The Juniper Tree" than any bit of lost boy, lost girl. (When one reads dark fiction, one should feel at least a little uncomfortable, right?)

"The Pear-Shaped Man" by George R.R. Martin is also a stunning short piece of horror (winning the Stoker Award back in the day). Some stories in the book are less inspiring--maybe just a matter of taste. I don't always agree with Datlow's definition of "horror", but maybe it's the word "horror" which sells books. The writing is all solid. And that's just it. One doesn't find prose like that of "The Juniper Tree" in novels very often. From my limited experience (having just read two of his novels), Straub doesn't write his books with the same pen.

When I titled yesterday's post "Why I Will Never Earn a Living as a Writer", I didn't intend it as a bleak surrender. Quite the opposite: I meant it as a rallying cry around the art of writing, even in "horror". If I could write one story, just one, with the brilliance and efficiency of "The Juniper Tree", I'd die a happy writer. That's my goal, folks. That's the dream I will not surrender. It may not make much money or even be read all that widely (compared with the oft-mentioned in yesterday's comments section Twilight)--but I will gladly die trying.


On another, semi-related note, Necrotic Tissue #10 landed in my mailbox yesterday. There's a delightful little ditty ("Hostile Takeover") by KV Taylor, a short-short by Jeff Strand, and yes, "The Distillery" by yours truly. Hop on over and grab a copy (or subscription). Happy reading.

WIP Wednesday: What I Read

I have a "you are what you eat" philosophy about reading. Aside from work written by authors I know personally (including those of you I only know in the digital sense), I tend toward highly recommended material written by acknowledged pros. I'm sure I'm missing some diamonds in the "rough", but reading time is limited (like too much of my life these days).

This is the third year I've picked up Ellen Datlow's Best of the Year--the first year in which the book is solely dedicated to dark fiction (and soley edited by Datlow). While I'm not through with Best Horror of the Year Volume 1 (it's my current "read in progress"), I want to highlight a few high points.

"Beach Head" by Daniel LeMoal is the first piece since god-knows-when that inspired a physical fear response from page one. The set up: three drug smugglers with hands tied are buried to their neck on a sandy beach. It only goes creepier from there. While the prose isn't always razor sharp, the effect is. I felt like I was suffocating while I read.

"The Hodag" by Trent Hergenrader affected me in a different, more nostalgic way. It is a tale that spans decades, and the narrator's chilling realization in the final paragraphs is more frightening than the Hodag itself. What is a Hodag? Glad you asked. "The Hodag" is the kind of story I would write if I could write better. It's a goal.

Some pieces, meh. I didn't finish "If Angels Fight" by Richard Bowes. Not my style, a little slow. But there is variety in this collection. Even if you disagree with Datlow, there isn't a true clunker in the anthology. Not that I've found, yet. It's nice to see what she picks for the best. It's nice to have a sampling of pieces from a number of high quality venues, too.

Yeah, I'm still writing short stories. I've chopped an old piece in half and am reworking it into something completely different, a tale of two friends separated by circumstances (supernatural and otherwise). From "Come Out and Play":

I tried to run; I turned and tried to run down the rough path, but my foot hooked a protruding tree root, and I toppled to the ground, skinning my left palm and striking my elbow on a rock. My inhaler toppled from my outstretched hand and tumbled into a pile of damp leaves. No, no, no, no. The sound of snapping twigs came closer; Gage came closer, but there was another sound—a scratching sound.

The sound of sharpened nails against tree bark. My lungs burned.

So there we are. October almost over (yay! Halloween), but no complete edits to Loathsome. Maybe in November.

Libraries vs. Bookstores & Honorable Insight

Because I needed something to do while sick this weekend, I broke down the honorable mentions from 2008's Best Horror as selected by Ellen Datlow. My copy of the book should be somewhere between Delaware and my house (according to Amazon), but the full list of honorable mentions is available here.

If anyone is curious like I am, you can download the list of all markets receiving 5 or more mentions in PDF here. I listed everything periodical as a "magazine" (even though some consider themselves quarterly anthologies), anything available online as "online", and multi-author collections..."anthologies". These numbers don't reflect stories actually reprinted in the anthology. Black Static was the big winner with 20 mentions. Gives one some idea of the markets receiving notice.

On Sunday afternoon, after watching the Cheifs lose (again...but hey, overtime baby), I took a trip to the library. Lovely thing, libraries. I picked up a few books to read (great display of horror/dark fiction for the Halloween season), and even placed a hold on a book not yet on the shelf (a scholarly work about monster mythology).

Then I went to the book store (Borders, in this case). Blah.

The library always fills me with hope and wonder...so many books...so quiet.

The books store? So many stacks of Glenn Beck books (ugh. How did he get away with posing in a pseudo-nazi uniform anyway?)...so few books I actually wanted to find. Can I help you? the employee asked. Yes--show me the door.

I've expressed my love of used book stores before (more like the library, really). I feel much the same way about independents, but it will be some time before you find me in a "big box" chain again.

Ellen Datlow Interviewed at Nossa Morte

Ellen Datlow (yes that Ellen Datlow) has a wonderful interview up at Nossa Morte. I think all aspiring writers need to read this one.

I want to find a way "around the slush pile" (from her answer to a question about a recent open call for submissions). Sounds like the only way to do that, my friends, it to produce a quality body of work and catch the attention of someone important.

I can control some things in life (e.g., writing every day); others, I must leave to the fates.