Some writers don’t even own printers (John Scalzi comes to mind). Markets are evolving — not quite matching pace, but at least trailing the pack. Analog and Asimov both use the electronic submissions system developed by Neil Clarke. I’ve always had a printer — usually one, a trusty laser dedicated to printing manuscripts — because I like marking up hard copy but I’m economical when it comes to submissions and response time.

Every story has a life. Literally, in my case. Recently, I built a spreadsheet called Storylife where every story has a sheet of its own. In it, I track the where the story is gone and where the story is going next. Every new sheet is seeded with a list of pro markets that I’ve created based on an analysis of my own submission records, SFWA qualifying markets, and my own reading. It’s a who’s who of where I’d like to be published. That initial list gets culled of markets that don’t fit the story and sorted by best fit and response time. Non-pro markets get added to that list as I near the end.

Most of the markets take electronic subs, but there are a few that don’t. Fantasy & Science Fiction. Interzone. Black Static. Black Gate. Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet. With Storylife, I’m making myself submit to those markets even though it’s a little less convenient than usual. F&SF is the outlier in terms of response time; they’re faster than most of their electronic counterparts. With the rest, factoring in transit time, you’re looking at maybe two or three months, if you’re lucky.

For me, the decision to submit by mail comes down to measuring the odds, which involves a little bit of rejectomancy. I don’t submit a story until I’m reasonably confident in it and the first few markets I send it out to are electronic with a quick turnaround time. If I get straight up form rejections in the average response time, I might take another look to see what might be keeping me in the slush pile before sending it back out. If I get a string of “close, but not quite” rejections then I feel as reasonably sure as any doubting writer can that the story just needs to find the right editor and I’ll make the investment to submit by mail.

There are financial logistics involved in deciding to submit by mail. Mailing from Canada to the US cost me $8.57 today, just in postage. It would have been cheaper if I’d had US postage — $0.88 for two stamps vs. $4.50 for an International Relay Coupon — but getting stamps takes a little maneuvering. Add in the cost of the 9×12 and business size envelope, printing, etc.

Speaking of story life, I also need to make a decision about shelf life. I’m considering following Ferrett’s lead where he called a mulligan on his pre-Clarion writing life. I still have some of those stories in circulation and while they’re good stories, I am running out of places to send them despite mostly positive feedback. Maybe harvest the ideas in future stories, because when you compare that to what I’ve written since Clarion, nine first drafts, five polished stories sent out on submission and three sold (60%), all on their first date, that tells me I should be expending my energy on the new things. I have a feeling that there’s a diminishing point of return on old stories, where they might do more harm than good in the eyes of an editor. I’m just not sure where to draw that line.

Apparently I’m running in low power mode right now. New meds, a heavy work schedule, and two short story deadlines. Oh, and I’m outlining NOVEL.

I’ve got around twenty unfinished short stories in inventory. My plan is to revise a short story every month or so while drafting novel. I don’t plan to draft any new short stories until I’ve finished this novel draft, unless something new like Shanghai Steam comes along or a specific invite comes along that catches my interest. Shiny is shiny, after all.

How long will this take? Fuck if I know. I’ve never finished a novel before. When I’m drafting short stories I average 500 words/day with relative ease. I suspect I can double that but I’ll be conservative and give myself until my birthday next summer — almost exactly 11 months away. If I don’t have a complete draft by then, something is seriously wrong and the Inkpunks are formally invited to visit a beatdown on my ass.

Expect regular status updates complete with word widget and maybe even tiny extracts of out of context words that I’m not totally horrified by.

I’ve been bad about writing consistently lately (blogging seems to be a chronic problem). I’d write sporadically, finishing stories here and there, revising and evening submitting a few of them with some success.  Mostly, though, I’ve been draft stories and that’s it. I still have some sitting in my moleskines waiting to be typed up. I’ve been really, really bad about revising and submitting. I only have four stories in circulation, with another twenty or so waiting to be edited. Not to mention the two novel ideas floating in my head and various states of outline.

I could make excuses, but really, it comes down to sitting down and doing it. Butt in chair.

Well, I started neglecting twitter and the like to some degree, which gives me an easy excuse to talk about writing without actually doing. The big change I made was lifestyle — going to bed at roughly the same time every day and getting up around the same time in the morning. Now, I roll out of bed, get dressed, and go write for an hour or two.

I have two projects I’m working on this month, a new short story, Aye of the Hagfish, that I’ll be sending on to Dagan Books Fish Anthology and an as yet untitled post-partial ice age apocalyptic recovery w/mech story that I’m finally getting around to revising for Timid Pirate‘s Benevolent Apocalypse anthology, both due at month’s end. After that, who knows. I’ve got plenty of existing material to work from, but I fully intend to flood the market with new, original fiction by yours truly.

Anyone who I’ve worked with on deadline knows that I’m bad for them. I’m trying to fix that. Part of that is organizational (and damn my office is starting to look spiffy) and part of it is productivity. I could just cram the last week of the month and submit with minutes to spare, or miss the deadline and be morose for a week or two for another lost opportunity but fuck that. That’s no way to run a career.

I finished draft 0.5 (a longhand first draft, a reverse outline and a draft of what was missing) of Aye of the Hagfish. Tonight I’ll type that up and hand off that very rough draft to my lovely, patient, and wise wife for a first read and turn my attention to the mech story.

Life isn’t all or nothing but that’s how I’ve been trying to tackle fiction. It doesn’t work, at least for me, not in a way I can sustain. There’s a place for line editing but it’s not on the first edit. I’ll make a revision pass to fixing major issues and hand it off for comment. Pick up the next project and repeat, and so on.

There’s no substitution for action. If you want to write, sit and do it. There is no other alternative.

It’s different when it comes to fiction, though. I’ve made sales and gone to Clarion. I’m comfortable with what I do and don’t know but I don’t usually feel like I’m speaking with authority. Oddly, when I first started out I could sit and write a couple thousand words in a sitting. Now, I am more methodical, carefully choosing my words and writing much, much slower. The results are much better but there are times I wish I could reclaim some of that speed.

I’ve heard, on a few occasions, that it takes a year or so to fully recover or internalize the lessons of Clarion. Maybe I’m still in that phase and on the other side I’ll gain some newfound confidence in my work that will allow me to stop second-guessing myself. I’m happy with the end result of my work. I believe it’s of professional quality even if I haven’t made that first pro sale yet. I should be happy with what I have but I guess I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t push myself to the next level.

Project: Motown Blues (tentative)
New words written: 811
Reason for stopping: End of story

No matter how much I outline and plan, these stories tend to take on a life of their own once I get started. The voice fluctuates until it finds its pace and pitch. Tangents emerge, sidetrack, and must be wrestled into submission. I like what this is shaping up to be. Like painting, the next steps are to refine the edges, fix the flaws, and add depth to bring it to life. 18 days til deadline.

My Illinois driving records have been received by Mom and will soon be on their way here. Soon, I’ll be able to get an Ontario drivers license and then we can start the car shopping. I’m researching the Ford Focus, Mazda 3 hatchback, and the Dodge Caliber. A nice compact with good gas milage should do us well.

Project: Motown Blues
New words written: 599
Reason for stopping: family obligations

Two and a half scenes to go. I’ll wrap this draft in a few days and get hustling on the first revision. Between now and May 15th, when it’s due, I’ll end up with three or four revised drafts. There’s good guts in this here story. I just need to tease them out and make them pretty.

I realize that I neglected to mention that the anthology Extinct Doesn’t Mean Forever, containing my story Indigo’s Gambit, is now available on Amazon.

Three, two, one, bang — the Drifting Star skipped on the wave of a collapsing micro-sun, soaring through the void between the stars. The astronautical library contained surveys and charts on hundreds of thousands of star systems within the alliance of civilized worlds the Fringe called Sing Xu. This would be the thirty-eighth Indigo had visited since his journey toward the core planets began. So far none contained a world suitable to revive the Oshen race.

I’m happy that this story found a home. I wrote it several years ago for a different anthology but didn’t get accepted. Themed anthologies can be tricky beasts — the market is flooded with stories that didn’t make the cut. Patience paid off, though, and this anthology came along.

My hat goes off to Patrick Swenson, who puts heart and soul into making the retreat an awesome event. 30+ writers from across North America gathered in one place for a long weekend of writing, eating, and drinking. People compare managing writers to herding cats, and the observation isn’t far off from the truth. Andrea wrote a bunch of new words. I revised and plotted, finally completing and resubmitting a rewrite request of a story very dear to me.

We met some great new people that I’m looking forward to keeping in contact with. We also got to visit with many of my fellow Inkpunks – Wendy, John, and Sandra.

I made it a few talks, including Mary Robinette Kowal’s on giving an effective reading (the second time I’ve seen it). It was Jennifer Brozek and Erin Evans‘ discussion of freelancing and multi-tasking that really tickled me, giving me some ideas on how I can manage my workload a bit more efficiently.

The environs around the retreat were spectacular. It rained every day while we were there, as you’d expect from a rainforest. Green moss covered tree limbs and roofs alike.

The Worlds Largest Spruce tree was, indeed, huge. The pictures don’t come close to showing just how epic it is.

We found the roaming herd of Elk on our first day I’d forgotten to bring my camera. We found them grazing in a pasture the next afternoon. Judging by how calm they were towards us, I suspect a lot of people stop to stare at them.

The waterfalls were brilliant. I wish I’d had my camera adjusted better to photograph them. As it was, the spray coated me and the lenses, making things a challenge.

We saw these odd structures built into the river some miles north of the retreat. Giant tree trunks hammered into the riverbed, and criss-crossed with more timber added to form what looked like a funeral pyre. It turns out that the local Indian tribe went to great lengths to build these as salmon breeding grounds a few years back. Judging by the bald eagles feeding nearby, I would say they were successful.

More photos can be found on Flickr.

After the retreat ended, we drove back to Portland. Along the way, we stopped for lunch and discovered that our flight that night was delayed and we were being offered a rebooking, which we hastily accepted. A day to explore Portland wasn’t nearly enough but we did visit Powell’s Books, which caused me to exclaim, “I need to quit my job so we can move here. Wait, scratch that. I need to apply for a job here and then move.” We managed to survive the dinner involving an invasion of a hundred or more 8-12 year old girls from a national dance troupe, and capped off our visit with a yummy lunch with Wendy.

The people we met in Portland were friendly and everyone we spoke to loved being there. It’s somewhere we could see ourselves living down the road a bit.

I’m particularly tickled by this sale. It’s my first acceptance post-Clarion, of a story I’m particularly enamored with, to one of my favorite markets. Happy writer is happy.

Coming on the heels of my sale to Crossed Genres, I can also announce that I’ve sold the story, Indigo’s Gambit, to the EXTINCT anthology, to be published as an eBook later this year.