Brevity is the Soul of Wit: In Defense of Slim Novels

I see more agonizing over how long a novel "should be" than I feel is needed. My mystery novel (shiny new draft recently completed) clocks in at about 53k words. Short, but still above the prescribed 50k it must be to be considered a novel.
I suppose I find it frustrating when I see blog posts telling me that suspense and mystery novels should range 65k to 80k. Why? Not all agents and publishers adhere to these guidelines strictly, but it's still worrying to think that others may be discouraged by my manuscript length. Many classic mysteries like And Then There Were None, by Agatha Christie and Hound of the Baskervilles wouldn't make that 65k requirement.
I think much depends on the author's style. Do they luxuriate over scenery or stay with a starker viewpoint? I personally write dialogue heavy pieces, allowing character and plot to explain itself in interactions between the characters. I simply prefer that way of conveying information to the audience (probably leftover from all the time I spent doing theatre and working with scripts).
I think many of us can agree that quantity doesn't automatically equal quality in a first novel. In creative writing classes, exercises where you shave away all your adjectives and exposition often prove liberating. I've been in my share of creative writing workshops where a little trimming did wonders. Young writers especially have a tendency to "clear their throats" at the beginning of pieces. Their first paragraph, stanza, or chapter can sometimes be eliminated entirely. I suppose I'm trying to write as tightly as possible. I don't want to give myself room to clear my throat.
That's not to say that many breathtaking novels haven't soared over 100k words. Some stories simply call for longer books if they have complex plots spanning over long periods of time or the author has to build an entirely new world on the page (in the case of fantasy).
Through subsequent edits, I may bulk out some characters or subplots of my novel and add a few thousand words. I just don't see the point in adding bulk for the sake of it.
Never write just for the sake of meeting a word count. Unless you're just having fun with NaNoWriMo. Or meeting a requirement for one of those creative writing classes. Even then, I feel like you should be working towards something with those words.
I'm sure that as readers, we've been equally touched by a slim novel (Ahem-- The Great Gatsby) as we have by a thicker text at some point in our lives. I suppose I'm trying to convince myself that ultimately it won't matter so much. That no one will try to pigeonhole me to YA fiction if I can't break 60k. That savvy literary agents know it doesn't really matter.
It's just hard writing between the standards. I wrote a novella last winter that I'm really proud of. It was my grand experiment trying to write layers of plot and character to follow a musical pattern (with refrains, variations, and harmonies). I love that piece, but I'm not sure what to do with it.

Writing for Money and other Different Skill Sets

Sorry for the silence on this end.
I'm getting to the point in my life where I have to seize adulthood, independence, etc. I also have to get used to writing for different reasons. No longer am I simply writing essays for classes, stories and poems for myself. Now I'm writing to convince people to give me money, accept me into programs, buy my creative writing.
Application essays, query letters: they're a different skill set. It's a balance between informative and interesting. Between confidence and cockiness. No little artistic flourishes such as stand-alone phrases allowed (see previous sentence fragment). Suddenly I'm a slave to the basic rules of punctuation and grammar. They're no longer gentle guidelines I can bend for emphasis or fun. My bad habits (I tend to overuse commas) are glaring errors that need immediate attention.
Writing a novel is not the same as writing a query. Receiving an English degree doesn't mean anyone's going to pay you to use it.
The big dream would be for me to spend next year working/studying abroad. By the end of that year I would hope to have something in the works for getting my novel published.
The big dream is to live by my pen. Not grandly, but just enough to take care of myself.

No Room For You (in the workforce)

Perhaps it's my own fault for keeping an email account with Yahoo. It seems like every few months they post a new story about "useless" college majors. They're not the only culprit, plenty of news sources print and post such articles.
In their most recent article, they discussed the usual "worst" majors (mine, English, included). When discussing the poor job prospects for philosophy majors the writer said,"Our philosophy, at least, is to look into a major with a better return on investment."

Hilarious. It seems that this is the mindset toward education now. We treat it like a product. Commercials for online degrees are a perfect example of this. "I want to get my degree faster." "I don't want to take classes I don't need." If only we could streamline it and have people line up to get implanted with a micro-chip labelled "bachelor's degree."

I don't understand how anyone can call something that enriches your mind a waste. The concept of the Renaissance Man is now outmoded. People want to take the classes that give them a specific set of skills that will enable them to do a specific job that will bring home a certain sized paycheck. 

It's true that perhaps if I had gone into the sciences I would have a more certain job when I graduate, but I prefer language and literature. Obviously most of the people pursuing the "worst" degrees are doing them because they love them. They are more interested in feeding the soul than feeding the wallet. These constant articles in the media beating down the Arts and Humanities are basically saying to me: "There's no room for you."

There's no room for the poets, the philosophers, the painters. There's no room for the people who appreciate beauty or show us society in a new light. There's no room for people who try to give us greater understanding and consciousness. We don't need them as long as we have doctors, lawyers, scientists, and investment bankers.

You shouldn't go to school to become a smarter, better person, you should go to school so you can make lots of money. Even if you do it by studying a subject you don't love.

I know that I won't be a Warren Buffet. I will never live in a mansion or have servants.  I will live in an apartment and cook Ramen noodles over a hot plate. So what? There are more important things in my opinion. I'm a story teller and I don't have a choice. I came out of the womb that way. 

I think I've gained something from every college course I've taken-- even the courses that weren't in my major. Thanks to our liberal arts curriculum, I've take classes in biology, sociology, mathematics. I don't think they were a waste. Learning something new can only improve your mind for whatever it is you plan on doing.

<I can't help but wonder if the writer of that article is just a frustrated English major stuck writing for Yahoo now. And consider: would the world be any richer had Shakespeare chosen the more sensible profession of fishmonger or become a glover like his father?

Skip this rant

I apologize in advance for this outburst.
A piece of flash fiction I wrote for the The Vestal Review was rejected last week which sort of set this whole thing in motion. I really liked that piece, I thought it was quality. So now I'm doubting my ability to judge my own work. Work on my NaNo has been increasingly halting because I'm a little overwhelmed with school work.
I just feel like I'm stuck in this place where I'm putting all this time and effort into a degree that no one will ever pay me for. Yes, an English degree can help you go in other directions besides writing, but I honestly don't want to do anything else. I write because I love it, because I have to do it, I can't stop myself, but now that I get closer to graduating (and having my bills ever increasing) I have to think about doing it for money as well.
Putting monetary value on my work is so difficult. When magazines and publishers aren't willing to pay for work that I originally did for free, it devalues it and makes me doubt myself as a writer. I hate entering writing contests, even though they may have cash prizes because I hate having my work held up and arbitrarily judged by people comparing it to dozens of other submissions. I'm very private about my writing and these terrible experiences trying to make it more public only tell me that it should stay private. No one wants it. But I don't know what else I can possibly do with my life. Molding words and telling stories are the only thing I know how to do. But apparently I don't do it very well.
I need something positive to happen to me, I'm having some kind of quarter life crisis here.

The Case of the Sneaky Computer

Guys, my computer has been doing things behind my back at 3 am.
Yesterday I logged on and found that my "updates were complete" and "malicious software" was removed... and now I can't use Internet Explorer. So it removed my LAN thing (sorry to be so technical) and now I have to log onto the internet through my old AOL software I haven't used in three years. However, this has led me to discover that I have 600+ emails in my old AOL account and that spammers are using email addresses from my address book to send things to me.
That is unbelievably cruel. I see an email in my box from someone I haven't spoken to in a year. I think maybe he wants to reconnect and I get an elated feeling in my collarbone. Then I find out it's spam.
I'm only in this situation because my computer's default setting is apparently to do updates at 3 in the morning without permission. I looked up my update history and have found that this has been going on every two since I purchased the computer.
I know the days of this laptop are numbered, but I was hoping it would last through the fall semester. Actually, my fervent prayer was that it would last until I completed my degree, but that is two years away and my computer seems to be having seizures.
I hate technology.

Screnzy Slump

Slumps always happen during NaNo, but for some reason I keep forgetting about Script Frenzy. I open my email and see there's another "Script Frenzy Story" posted and suddenly remember the two scripts on my flash drive.
Looking through my script library (a left over from theatre school)I've noticed that most two act stage plays fall at about seventy pages. That's why I decided to write two pieces to total my word count. Still, I always feel my narrative voice is the strongest part of my writing so it's hard for me to be so dependent on dialogue.
I've also been avoiding the forums. For some reason they've been annoying me. Script Frenzy is supposed to be for, well, amateurs. Generally unpublished writers (like myself), but some of the questions on the forums bother me. It seems like many of the writers want to be handed a guide with all the "rules" for script writing, dictating how long all their scenes must be, how many characters they should have, etc. The "quick and dirty" tricks posted for reaching the goal used to amuse me, but again I've been finding them really annoying lately.
Maybe it's because I've been taking so many writing-centric classes and have been cracking down on myself to become a more serious writer to look toward making it my career. These challenges aren't just for fun for me, I may end up living off what I've been writing for NaNo and even Script Frenzy (hopefully).
Maybe I'm also just tired, overtaxed, and wishing summer were here. No doubt that compounds all my issues. The end of the semester is creeping up with an armful of papers and exams to dump in my lap. I also agreed to perform in two of my friends' directing class final, as well as my club president duties.
I'm not in a bad mood, exactly. The weather's been quite fine (I don't even mind the rain because it makes everything so green). I'm working on some exciting stories for the paper, I've been selling things on my Etsy, I'm going back to work at the Renaissance Faire this summer (I'm such a nerd, but I've missed having an excuse to wear a corset and sword fight with pirates), I was also invited to audition for a show that one of my professors is putting on in the fall. Good things are happening, I'm just not sure if I can dedicate the time to Script Frenzy this month. I'm also feeling like I might be growing in another direction as writer-- one that Screnzy and NaNo may not accommodate much longer. There is much for me to ponder.
Sorry for the wrong rant. I'm going to bed now.

The Bath Disaster

Enjoy this off topic post, it's been an exhausting few days.
I have not taken a bath at this apartment yet even though I've been here for a while. Baths are one of my favorite winter activities- sometimes they are the only way I can make my entire body feel warm at one time. However, the tub here is a little scary.
The menfolk have left it rather scummy and the bottom of the tub still has the remnants of stick--on daisy shaped pads to prevent slipping left by the last tenant. These have been covered by a prickly bath mat that seems to be the place where all hair collects.
Still, I was determined that today I was going to have a bath. The kind of bath that involves music and a book and my homemade eucalyptus bath salts. Something other than the third episode of Downton Abbey should be the highlight of my weekend for goodness' sake. Alas, it was not meant to be. After scrubbing the tub and using some foaming cleaner I found it the back of the cabinet (which I got on my hands and then had a two-minute freak out over the fact that the warning label says to avoid contact with skin- I have a mild chemical phobia as it is), I finally deemed the tub clean enough to bathe in. Of course then the water would not get hot enough and the drain is apparently loose, so the lukewarm water was slowly sinking around me.
That's when I finally cast aside my copy of Little Women and gave up on the relaxing bath scenario. I took a shower and wondered why the water could be hot coming out of the shower head, but not when filling the tub.
Now I'm settling in to finish up some articles for the college paper and accepting the fact that PBS programming probably will be the highlight of my weekend. There are worse things.

The Great Gatsby... in 3D?

Subtitle: WHY BAZ LUHRMANN? WHY?
I just read this article and I am appalled. I am a fan of Baz Luhrmann, his decadent, surrealist style usually works quite well and the man is not afraid of a metaphor or two. The idea of him directing the jazz age tragedy that has recently become one of my favorite novels could be an intriguing one. It could really be a great fit.
Then I found out that he is planning to do it in 3-D.
My issue with 3-D movies is that has it become a cheap gimmick to make audiences pay more without really adding to the quality or thematic messages of the film. By breaking that fourth wall it doesn't make the movie more real to the audience, it emphasizes the un-reality of the event. The movie points out its own artificiality (and not in a poignant post modern way). Besides that, those stupid glasses give me a headache.
I just don't see how making The Great Gatsby in 3-D will add anything to the story or characters. Ideally, an audience's investment in the characters, the movement of the plot, and the effect of the theme should be why people watch movies, not just to see when something pops out at them next. For kid's movies and such, sure it can be fun, but ultimately it can dumb down the movie and muddle a fantastic story. Gatsby is compelling enough, it doesn't need flimsy tricks. Fitzgerald would not approve.
In a way, it's ironic because I feel like one of the main messages of Gatsby is how meaningless decadence and cheap modern window dressing are- life, and in my argument, film needs a solid foundation of something other than spectacle to make it worthwhile. I'm sorry if you like 3-D movies, to each their own, but in this case, it feels wildly inappropriate.

Why Getting Flowers is Terrible

I went on a rant this evening about how awful flowers are as a token of love. In a purely symbolic sense, it is very discouraging.
For example, giving flowers to a dying relative: your relative is dying, so to cheer them up you give them flowers that have been cut off from their life source so that they can watch them whither and die while all their family stands around watching them (the relative) whither and die. I would be so annoyed.
From an admirer I understand the deeper metaphor of a rose representing romance because they are beautiful, delicate, rare, and they hurt like hell. I have been given flowers once or twice and I appreciated the gesture, but I had to consider the other implications. Does the relationship, like the flowers have no "roots" or solid foundation? Will it be very pretty for a short while, then wilt and decay? Will all the petals drop off and reveal that all that's left is an ugly thorny stem of dead love?
For goodness sake, I would say give me a living plant, so it can grow and bloom *like our love* (excuse, I just made myself dry heave a little). Please excuse my rant, I've had a migraine for three days. I've always wondered if my migraines are caused my me over analyzing everything, such as the symbolic implications of flower-giving.

We Interrupt Banned Books Week to Bring You:

The Ironic Virus.
Ah, I was so determined not to get sick this fall. The fact that I always do did not deter me from this goal. I've been taking Zinc and Bee Pollen, drinking carrot juice, but none the less here I am. Lying in bed with a throbbing head and achy body.
I have missed three classes (well am about to miss my third)so far. I have so much work I could be doing, but my brain can only focus in very short bursts.
I have bouts of low blood pressure- so last night when I started feeling weak with a head ache and slight dizziness, I assumed that my blood pressure had taken a dip. This is controllable with vast amounts of water and elevating my feet, which I did. Likely, my lack of proper nutrition (the only fruit in the fridge is apple sauce currently) and lack of proper sleep spurred this on, but later, the chills and hot flush to my face implied more than just low blood pressure (though the sickness likely accelorated that as well).
After a terribly uncomfortable night I awoke around 4 am covered in a cold sweat- the fever had broken, but I still feel dreadful. Since it is recommended not to mix in company with others within 24 hours of having a fever and since I would have to make an arduous half hour drive down one of the busiest highways in the country, I chose not to go to school today. Now it feels like my fever may be coming back and of course this poorly stocked Bachelor's Pad I'm currently residing in doesn't have any pain killers/fever reducers within their expiration date.
There is also nothing really for me to eat so I'm living off tea and apple sauce. Ah, wait, there are also crackers. Hooray- if I don't have time to do the shopping it doesn't really get done unfortunately.

Maybe it's just because...

I'm extremely menstral right now, or the fact that someone I love has hurt me like never before this past week, but it's been a tough day. (Also, not "hurt me" as in black and blue, but emotionally- just to clarify).
I keep wondering about what I'm doing here- not in an existential way, in a more practical, geographical way. Why am I at college studying English? Why am I on the newspaper staff? Why am I so lacking in organizational skills? Why do I let myself take on positions where I really need organization? And why is it so hard for me to find somewhere to live that will make me happy? I feel like a refugee, nothing is mine, I'm just camping out. It was my own choice and I definitely feel I made the right one, but I'm still waiting for everything to work out and be livable in my life.
Obviously it would be easier to give some of these things that are bothering me up, but I've always felt that the turmoil was outweighed by the rewards. Sometimes though, I have days where it's really hard to feel a sense of accomplishment or fulfillment.
Lately I've been too busy to do laundry or eat a decent meal let alone do any pleasure reading or creative writing and that is a major part of how I keep mentally balanced- journaling especially has helped me rationalize some of the darkest moments of my young life.
I hope to be back in line in a week or so, but I just feel like pulling a Thoreau and building myself a hut in the woods. Just to get away from the buzz of everyone on their cell phones and spend my days writing and working in my herb garden- that would be bliss. Perhaps I'd feel lonely, but it's always easier to feel lonely when alone than to feel lonely when surrounded by people and noise.
Sorry to be a Debbie Downer, I'll be back when I'm feeling more cheerful.

This Looks Like a Job for Language Rehab!

As I sit here with my frozen yogurt and pretzels, waiting to get tired enough to go to bed, I ponder something my father said last week: "Well you know she's preggers again, right?"
This worried me. Beyond the fact that he's turning into a gossip, my father at age 67 just used the term "preggers." Have we as a civilization become too lazy to say whole words? Is everyone going to begin speaking like the bored 16 year old girl that cut me off in a parking lot yesterday? I can see it now, "Word of the Day" calendars will disappear, soon vowels will become too much for us and we will speak only in grumbled consonant noises.
We all have our little bad habits, myself included, but some people I hear out in public are so disjointed in their use of words that I'm sure it must effect their personal and business lived.
This is where I step in. I believe there is a need for something between a super hero and Stacy and Clinton from What Not to Wear to take these people in hand and and change their speech to change their lives. I'm already sewing my argyle cape and am wearing my underwear on the outside as we speak.
I just need a really cool super hero/fashionable host name and persona. "The Book Eater" isn't really sexy or intimidating enough.
Oh, and one more gripe, the other week I saw a spelling error on a billboard. Not only are you assaulting the English language, you are doing it at an enormous scale, for a whole city to see. No one probably noticed.

Book Mania

Not in a good way.
I've been having trouble with commitment lately... commitment to books. I'm a moody reader. I have to be in the right mood to read any story, so I'll often have more than one book going at once so depending on how I feel, I'll be in the middle of something I'll want to continue with. Not so lately. I've started about six books and I'm just not in the mood to finish any of them. This is why I seem to be the slowest reader in my family. Maybe it's because I'm the only girl of the family and girls like to multi-task that I'm the only one with this issue. My father and my brothers will, for the most part will select a book and finish it within a day or two. I string along for weeks going between multiple books.
This is slightly disturbing to me.
It's been worse lately, but perhaps because I've been feeling rather melancholic. I've also had a migraine for about 2 weeks. That's a downer. My cat might have a urinary tract infection. She peed on a shirt of mine the other day. That's worrying.
I slept way too late today so I can't sleep now, I have to work tomorrow and I also have to see someone I love dearly, but dread trying to talk to. There is no way not to disappoint them. Goodnight. May your mind be at peace and your sleep be refreshing.

The Ethical Dilemmas of Noveling

Basing characters off of real people is something I can say with some degree of confidence that every writer's done it. Some may find this unethical, but I have to disagree. A writer's goal should be to deliver some message of truth about the world, about people and a writer has to base that in their knowledge of those things. A book I once read said that writers have two places to learn from: books and life. Books can help you learn about things you can never completely experience yourself (being a different race or gender, living at a different time, etc) but life can help you create your own stories to tell. If you base all of your writings entirely off things you've read then it might be difficult to create a sense of originiality and honesty to your stories.
I base most of my characters off of real people, I've never completely ripped someone off, making their deepest confessions told to me in confidence the subject of my story, thinly veiled by changed names and slight details. That would seem unethical to me. Many characters, though, are composites of several people: habits, appearances, aspirations that I find interesting in people I've known for years or strangers I see at the supermarket. Basing them in something real makes them feel more real to me. Sometimes even bits of myself find their way into characters.
This meditation started when tonight I was about to send an email to someone and I almost addressed it to the character I had based off them. That would have been awkward to explain. My one worry is that if any of this ever gets published that people I know will see bits of themselves in my story. Especially characters that are pulled from several different people- they might be offended by the way a character they identify themselves with diverges from them more than they are by the ways the character is similar.
It's been a long day. Any thoughts?

Mind Your Manners: Rude People Online

I almost hesitate to post this because my experience as a blogger has been very positive, my small audience has always been excessively polite and supportive, but this is not the case on many websites. I've been noticing so many websites and message boards that are just overrun with trolls. Disagreement, spirited debate, a communion of ideas; that is what these places should house.
There have been some posters that are just purposely provoking for no good reason. There was a poster on a board I used to visit (I haven't been on in over a year, too negative on there now) who would post topics just to spark political arguments that had nothing to do with the subject of the board. She was obnoxious. There is a time and a place for certain discussions and in the wide world of the Internet, you can find those places, so don't plague other boards with it. Sites with posts about mental illness often have cruel remarks as well, how insensitive can people get? I've had so many negative people in my life that I have struggled to overcome, I don't want to deal with them in the virtual plain as well. My only question is, why? Why do they waste the time and energy to make other people miserable? Can't we make our efforts toward positivity instead? What do they gain from beating down strangers about nonsense? They must truly have issues within themselves.
Sorry for the rant, but it is a depressing thing to encounter again and again. Many sites, I simply stop visiting, it's no longer worth it. I hope that other posters will just not respond to them, but sometimes it's hard not to say something and hence, the beast is fed. Of course there are many safe havens with very little drama and I appreciate them, but the crazy always seems to out weigh the sane lately.
....out with the bad. I'm going to cuddle my calico now.

Writer's Retreat

I wrote a novella last summer that I am determined to create a full length novel out of. It was inspired by people I met during my summers at the Renaissance Faire- modern day gypsies (though that is technically a derogatory term I have learned through research) that travel to faires and festivals around the country selling their wares. To gain inspiration for writing about nomads I have made an odd little campsite for myself to write in in the evenings.
It consists of a decent sized screen tent that I have draped with light colored fabrics for privacy, and relief from the sun. I have a chair and a blanket inside so I can sprawl about with my books and notebooks or even my laptop sometimes. Outside I have two wrought iron candle holder poles that came with the house, so I'm told, and long red candles that belonged to my mother since before I was born. When it gets dark (like now) I light them and hope a "Death of the Moth" situation does not arise. I'm sure the neighbors are slightly taken aback by this display, but no one's said anything yet. I expect next week I will have to take it all down so the lawn can be mowed, but hopefully I can get it back up directly, I have actually begun writing again. If I don't write anything for a few days I get anxious, it's such a part of my life and behavior, I went over a week without really writing anything during this move and I am relieved to be back on track. The tent does have its downfalls, a wasp got trapped in it yesterday and could not be persuaded out the opening. I had to light incense inside to make him sleepy with the smoke, then brush him off the roof, on the ground and out of the tent where he regained his faculties and flew away.
There is so much I want to do. Last night I stumbled across a script I wrote when I was 16. It's not half bad, I'd really like to rework it now that I am older and arguably wiser. Though it is possible I peaked very young and my best years are behind me... well, I won't dwell on that thought.

Creative Writing Blues

Sometimes I wonder if being a novelist is actually within my grasp, if creative writing is actually my "thing." When I was going to drama school I thought I wanted to live my life in the theatre, to direct and act. Then I re-evaluated that and decided to study English. I'm wondering if that might be a mistake. I still don't know exactly what I want to do with my life.
I'm really developing an affection for journalism, but I want to write stories. I guess I'm just a bit down because I didn't do as well on my Hamlet paper as I had hoped and my short story didn't win the campus writing contest (I really could have used that $75 prize too). I have to ask, what if I'm not that good at the thing I think I'm best at- if my best isn't that great? Where would that leave me?
Hopefully Screnzy will cheer me up, I haven't written a script in a while, but I like the feel of it. Maybe that's my thing. Maybe once I start eating and sleeping regularly again I'll feel better. I'm glad tomorrow's Friday.

Regency House Party

The first and only reality show I loved. Reading the less than spectacular Austenland recently made me long for the tantrum laced graces of The Regency Hose Party for the first time in ages. I was so pleased to see that Channel 4's website had the complete series up. That is until I saw that they blocked Americans from accessing their videos. Unfortunately, that's where I am. I don't like most American television, so I depend on internet resources to supply me with what BBCA and PBS don't mete out regularly or at all.
This is just my mini-rant/moan about not being able to find anywhere to watch Regency House Party. Any sneaky tricks or alternative names for the videos would be most appreciated. Thank you.
Oh, and Slings and Arrows begins its turn on American tv once again tonight on Ovation TV. It's a fantastic series about a Canadian Shakespeare festival. Anyone that's worked in the theatre will appreciate it humor and even if you never have, check it out.