. Spinning .

I recently took part in a 24-hour Arts Marathon on the campus of Tunxis Community College (Farmington, CT) and learned quite a bit about artists, people, and myself.

When you close people together up in a room, particularly if those people are writers, they may come out of their trances long enough to interact with each other. That is, if they were putting effort into a project and had the strong winds of the muse at their back to begin with.

I came into the room with the best of intentions to get something accomplished but alas, without a shred of concept of story in any form or format. Nevertheless, I plugged in the laptop. Very shortly thereafter a sentence appeared and from there, a story spit itself out. Took eleven friggin’ hours, but it did.

I’m sort of an introvert, easily intimidated by crowds–that’s two people or more–and find myself unable to really make small talk, tell jokes–or find anyone else’s funny when I’m concentrating on a story–and have always been eloquentially dysfunctional though I find it easy to write in a more or less semi-intelligent manner. Whereas I am stymied by the simplest of queries in conversation, if corresponding via a keyboard I can hold up my own. Therefore, if centered within a group, I listen.

You can learn a whole lot by listening (though I do hope that anyone listening to my recitations under these same conditions allow me the same leeway I hope to extend them). The revelations, the contradictions, the habits that are observed can teach one not only about the person with whom one is incarcerated but about people in general, and more so, about one’s own self. Did you never notice that the most annoying things you find in others are most often sins you yourself commit on a regular basis?

In other words, I do apologize for being, well, human. And I must add, thank you for teaching me that and adding to my storehouse of information on characterization in writing.

I was recently asked by a friend to take part in a college Job Fair at Trinity College (Hartford, CT) to offer students some insight on writing as a career. Now far be it for me to claim this status and that for the very reason I would state as my first writer’s fact of life: It’s a non-profit job for almost all but the few, the celebrity, or the journalist.

In line with my previous post on online literary magazines, it is even harder to get anything but satisfaction and credentials from fiction writing in particular since few offer payment, and the “two copies of the issue” which was the standard offering no longer is a viable incentive.

Writing is an intensely demanding user of time. Not just in the writing, but in the editing process (and you damn well better spend time here), the reading of contemporaries’ work and the journals themselves to understand what they’re looking for in the work, the submission process itself which includes some timesavers like Duotrope but still involves a lot of juggling and meeting deadlines and writing to spec or theme, keeping word count in mind, changing language sometimes to suit, meeting the process requirements of double/single spacing, name on or not on pages, attachments or within the body of an email, font, margins, bio yes or bio no, etc. and then changing all to the standards of either .doc, .rtf, or plain text (.docx and anything Mac are still verboten) and then remembering (or using the spreadsheet) of who got what.

I put a lot of time into this. Not even counting the ten years of diddling around. For the past six months it’s been an almost non-stop venture of writing, reading, submitting, and all that entails. On top of that, there’s a certain amount of investment needed in supporting other writers. Yes! We’re not a vicious group of sneaky competitors, we try to help each other out. I personally tend to be nurturing and encouraging and so there’s a lot of time spent here as well. But that’s just a part of my nature (Scorpio) to do something either 100% or don’t do it at all. I’d say then that if writing is something that you love to do, you have to make that commitment–even if you’re simply allowing yourself some given period of time to publish or bust.

Then again, I’d not encourage anyone who gets enjoyment from writing a short story, a bit of poetry, but does not have the ambition to go through the process of publishing or getting paid for writing (which as I’ve noted, are not necessarily one and the same) to lay down their pen or stay away from the keyboard. There’s just as much satisfaction and joy in the doing.

So in summary, you don’t have to take it seriously. Writing can be as enjoyable or therapeutic as any chosen pastime. But if your intent is to share your work amongst a larger audience than your mother and your best friend, you really must take it seriously. It takes persistence and it demands dedication. It’s too much effort in both time and emotion to make only a half-ass hopeful stab.

Rather dated, but just recently brought to our attention is this article by David Lynn of the Kenyon Review on “Print vs. Internet: An Ongoing Conversation.”  Mr. Lynn questions–as all writers have at some point–the sponge-worthiness (my own standard–you’d have had to see the Seinfeld episode to figure this one out) of online literary journals as opposed to their more (considered) austere brethren (and parents), the print journal. He does this not as editor alone–though he offers some great insight by way of his discussions with other editors–but as a writer seeking a home for his own story.

Another possibility would be, as I’ve mentioned, to send the new story to any one of the dozens of electronic journals burgeoning on the Internet. But what would it mean for me to abandon print? Less status? Not least foregoing the tactile pleasure of holding the printed thing itself in my hand? How much is that worth?

As one of the comments (Barry, of Dogzplot) indicates, this is a 10 year-old argument:

very good literature has been published online for at least ten years now, this conversation is so old i wish people who engaged in it now would offer something new to the discusiion. necessity caused from economic decline? prestige? holding print artifacts? all old news.

what should come next in this discussion? lets talk about whats at stake for print publishers and larger publishing houses once people realize online publishing is here to stay and the quality of material being published, can be, in many cases, just as amazing…

This reminds me of the same old, same old we’re having still regarding hypertext and other new media literature since I’m trying personally to break down some barriers and add to the growing number of venues willing to realize that they have the facilities to offer hypertext easily simply by virtue of their being an online publication.

As a writer I’m more than willing to bend over backwards to go beyond the simple “does this story fit the tone of the particular magazine?” to produce a submission that is set to the format somewhat of that publisher, changing presentation–including colors, images, fonts, etc.–so that it is less restrictive or demanding for an editor to visualize it as part of his production. I’ve always offered as well to change all internal story links to reflect whatever the url arrangement would be should the piece be accepted. In other words, marketing of the medium is a biggie.

So with the consideration of publishing online versus print still a question in many minds, perhaps because of the nature of hypertext and its dependence upon the web for its very life I’m more openminded towards the concept of having my work published online. That, and the realization that 1) there are already tons, and I mean tons, of online only literary journals that are of the highest quality; 2) many of the formerly snooty print only journals have come to the necessary decision because of financial pressure to either go online or go under; 3) more and more people are reading short fiction online; and 4) the publications that were dependent upon writers and libraries alone as subscribers are often losing their audience (/revenue–meaning that many had turned to requiring fees from writers to submit and we all know how that idea went over) and limiting their readership without offering at least a companion online piece. In this last point, Mr. Lynn does offer his on feelings on the difference between the print and online version of the Kenyon Review.

So to sum up, Online Literary sites are coming into their own and forming a new and stable community of both producers of exquisite writing and a loyal readership that are going to be established well after the dust has settled.

Been meaning to spread the word here about Dorothee Lang’s latest project, The Daily s-press, a place that showcases books daily with the focus on new books from small presses (+ indie presses): paperbacks, chapbooks, and e-books,
presented by authors and small publishers that could benefit from the exposure this site can offer.

Dorothee runs The Blue Print Review and as a writer of fine prose and poetry, she has the foresight to know what the public is seeking in the literary arts, and is gracious enough to publicize those authors.

Go check out the site, see what’s hot, and spread the word to others who might wish to submit their own published pieces for Dorothee to showcase at the Daily s-press.