Mystery Solved! “I Would Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That)”

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Meatloaf

Meatloaf’s rock opera “I Would Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That)” is a great song, one that got a lot of airplay when I was younger. And the one thing that people always brought up (aside from the epic rock opera-ness of the song and the Beauty and the Beast theme of the video) and still bring up to this day is that Meatloaf never said what he wouldn’t do for love.

Except he did.

This is something that has bugged me since this song has come out because even as a kid I knew exactly what he wouldn’t do. If you’re not familiar with the song or you need to refresh your memory, check it out. Don’t worry, I’ll wait.

Did you hear it? It’s right there, plain as day.

No?

Listen closer.

When the pretty lady is singing and flying around on the couch, she sings, “Sooner or later you’ll be screwing around”.

And Meatloaf replies…

“But, I won’t do that.”

THAT IS WHAT HE WILL NOT DO FOR LOVE. HE WILL NOT SCREW AROUND.

Mystery solved!

You’re welcome.

Writing–And Then I Reconsider

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Anthology

I sold my first story of 2013 last week. Yay! “Someone to Hold” found a home!

And while I’m very excited about this as placing a story always gives me a satisfying rush because it’s public acknowledgement that I’m a real writer, it has given me pause on another project.

I’m seriously considering self-publishing another short story anthology. The anthology would use the seven stories I’ve been flogging around for a while that are ready to go plus five new stories written with the anthology in mind. It’d be set up like a sort of calendar. I like this idea. I thought it’d work for a late year release.

And then “Someone to Hold” found a home.

Immediately, I started wondering about the seven stories that are sitting there waiting to be sent out. Since Duotrope went paid and I can’t afford to use it, I haven’t made much of an effort to send any of them out. Now I’m wondering if I’m not selling them short by self-publishing them.

Aside from the fact that they’ll never know the joy of having someone other than myself finding them publishable, the honest fact is that even if I was paid a one-time token rate of ten bucks for one of the stories, that’s probably more than the whole anthology would make in a year (or more, if I’m going to be REALLY honest).

This anthology idea that I thought was so great is now being viewed in a different light, professionally, creatively, and monetarily. It’s amazing how one little success can throw a wrench in something else.

So now I have to make a decision. Do I want to try to sell these stories or do I want to go with the anthology idea? Which would be better for the stories? Which would be better for me? Do I want that victory rush? Or another project that collects change?

Right now I don’t know.

I’ve got a lot to consider.

Sew, Whatcha Doing?

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Vesta sewing machine (L.O. Dietrich Altenburg)

My grandma attempted to teach me how to use a sewing machine when I was a kid. It was a fruitless endeavor. Between not being very interested at the time and being one of those people that gets easily frustrated when I’m not instantly adept at something, it was a learnin’ that I did not get. My sister, on the other hand, picked up the sewing machine and learned how to crochet and has always been able to cook. She can also bust a forty bottle just right in order to cut a bitch. I’ve always been jealous of my sister’s innate abilities.

Anyway, though I never learned how to work a sewing machine (I have intentions to teach myself or have my great-aunt learn me up), I did teach myself how to sew by hand. As such, I’ve actually made quite a few things. I’ve made several pillows over the years as gifts; I created a DragonCon costume; I’ve made a few stuffed animals; and I repair a lot of my clothes. I’m pretty good with hand sewing combat skills.

My latest project is turning a t-shirt into a bag. I don’t remember what gave me the idea. I’ve got a bunch of old t-shirts that I don’t wear, but I don’t want to get rid of because I think they’re neat and I just can’t bear to part with them. I don’t like waste and right now they’re just sitting in a bin under my bed. At some point, in my sifting through multiple ideas over the past few years, I came up with turning a t-shirt into a bag.

This idea has been months in the making, I’ll have you know. I picked a t-shirt that I was okay with destroying, looked at it. And then I put it away in one of my craft drawers. A few months later, I pulled it out again and looked at it. Then I put it away again. I couldn’t figure out how I wanted to make this transition and if I could make it work.

A couple of weekends ago, I finally said, “screw it”, and committed to the project. I cut off the bottom of the t-shirt, sewed that bit up and lo, the bottom of the bag was born. Since then, a bit at a time, I’ve turned the sleeves into pockets, turned strips of the excess material into a strap, and decided where to attach the strap. This past weekend I bit the bullet and attached the strap and refined the pockets and the bag is now done (aside from testing it to see how well the stitching holds up). So yeah, this project that I didn’t think I’d ever do is now done.

Sometimes, I forget that I’m capable of doing stuff like that. In addition to being one of those people that thinks they should be instantly adept at new things, I also have it in my head that stuff should be done all in one go. And some things should be. But other things don’t have to be and in fact, it’s a better approach to do a little bit at a time. The overall result is better and the process isn’t as overwhelming.

If only I could apply this sewing project approach to my life.

Writing–On Fanfiction

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what are word for?

I wrote fanfiction for years. By the time it was all said and done, I’d written easily over 100 stories in twelve fandoms (that I remember). It’s very easy for most people to dismiss fanfiction (if you ignore the people that reconstituted their fanfic into bestsellers and you’re not one of the authors that likes to sue fanfic writers), but I cannot deny the contribution it made to my writing.

I’ve read some of my old stuff before, by now over ten years old in some cases, and I cringe. It’s filled with a voice so passive it doesn’t have a pulse. The descriptions are like vacant lots. Some of the stories are downright drivel (those, oddly enough, tended to be my most popular ones). None of them do I read and go, “Yeah! I can redo that and sell it!” because, yeah, no.

However, they’re not at all a waste. From the very first story, it was obvious that I had a good ear for dialogue. The quality of the stories improved over time. I was pretty good with tone and pacing. I was very good at picking up the canon and the characters. That’s something I pride myself on to this day. I was once able to write a good, in canon story in a fandom for a movie I’d never seen. My friend just told me the details I needed to know. The feedback praised my ability to write the main character so well. I still preen over that little victory.

Because I was at one time pumping out several stories a month, it was like a writing bootcamp in a way. Just by the sheer volume of words I was writing, I had no choice but to get better. Stephen King said that to be a writer you had to read a lot and write a lot and at that time, I was writing A LOT. It wasn’t all good, but it was something. And the something I was getting down helped me get better whether I realized it or not.

Now, I didn’t learn everything writing fanfiction. It wasn’t until well after my constant gush of words trickled to a drip of a story every once in a while that I learned the art of revisions. It was about then that I really got the hang of my passive voice problem. It’s been the years since then that I really refined my writing process into something that almost works well.

But, I can’t help but think how far behind I’d be if I hadn’t been writing all of those stories. Fanfiction gave me an opportunity to get better with immediate feedback and the a safe place to explore, experiment, and most importantly, write.

So, feel free to write fanfiction off.

Because I’m happy I wrote it.

My Favorite Scar

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Black-chinned Hummingbird -- Moab, Utah, USA

I’ve got lots of scars. That’s the fun of having pale skin and not healing very well and doing stupid things.

Of all of my many scars, though, I think the one I got from a ceramic hummingbird is  my favorite. First of all, it’s right across the bridge of my nose. Second of all, when I say I got it from a ceramic hummingbird, people automatically want to know the story because, dude, how do you get a scar on your nose from a ceramic hummingbird? There is no mundane way something like that happens.

So, here’s the story.

When I worked in the jewelry department at the local Wal-Mart, we had a gift wall that featured ceramic figurines, jewelry boxes, snow globes, and the like. Mother’s Day and Christmas were two of the holidays that those gifts were supposed to focus on. The trouble was that nobody wanted to be a ceramic mother figure for their mother and as a result, the gift wall looked like someone with a hoarding problem trying to be neat instead of a display.

Overstock was supposed to go on the riser above the wall. On the day in question, I was on the ladder rearranging the riser shelf to make room for yet more boxes of these ceramic nightmares, trying to figure out how to stack all of this stuff without breaking safety codes.

As I was moving some of the boxes of ceramic humming birds, I noticed too late that one side of the shelf had come out of its slot. Before I could fix it, that side of the shelf fell, sending a row of ceramic humming birds right at my face. I was unprepared for the aviary onslaught and one of the boxes hit me in the face, the corner of it busting open the bridge of my nose. I don’t know if you’ve handled much in the way of ceramics, but they can be quite weighty. Those humming birds were a lot heavier than their living counterparts. I got rocked pretty good.

Bleeding, seeing a couple of stars, I climbed down off of the ladder, applied a Kleenex and some pressure to the wound…and then helped a customer because apparently he really needed to see a pair of earrings and my need for a Band-Aid could wait.

Once I did get the Band-Aid applied, I then had the fortune of telling every one of my co-workers why I had a Band-Aid on my nose. They all thought it was hilarious. Except for one. When she pointed out how easily I could have been killed (if the bird had hit me a little bit harder, it would have knocked me out and I would have been in bad shape going unconscious at the top of a ladder), it wasn’t quite as funny anymore.

Now, though, with the scar so faded most people don’t notice it, the humor has returned.

With a story like that, though, my favorite scar still manages to get some attention.

Rerun Junkie– My Top Five Theme Songs

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Music

I like a good TV show theme song. It sets the tone, you know. There are some fabulous theme songs out there. There are some clear cut classics and everyone has their own preferences. And being a rerun junkie such that I am, you had to know that I would have my own list of the best.

This is a very subjective top 5 and it’s one that’s not in any particular order because I’m wobbly like that. But odds are if you ask me what my favorite theme song is on any given day, it will be one of these.

It’s the harmonica that really makes it.

Come on, who doesn’t love that killer opening?

That opening bass line…and then it just wails.

The military drum beat backing those horns. Perfection.

It tells you everything you need to know about the show. You can sing along AND dance to it. It’s gold.

Writing–Write What You Know

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Advice

It’s the oldest, most frequently given advice to writers.

“Write what you know.”

Writers have been rebelling against this advice for years now and they usually end up sounding like pretentious twits when they do it (at least that’s what I think they sound like). Their main argument is that if they write what they know, then there will be very boring stories out there. After all, nobody knows about distant planets and alien races, wizards and fairies, and what’s really going through a murderous ghost’s mind. That’s why it’s garbage advice. People HAVE to write what they don’t know.

To which I say, oh bullshit.

I’m embarrassed by the number of writers that seem to think there’s only one way to interpret this advice. I learned in high school that things can have many different interpretations. In fact, you can interpret some things to mean exactly what you want. Sports fans, politicians, and religious members have been doing this sort of thing for years.

So instead of writing off this old bit of advice as obsolete, let me show you how I interpret it. Because I do write what I know.

First of all, I write a story, whatever it is, because I know that story. I might not know certain specifics like Chicago street names or the exact make of a revolver or how long it takes before rigor mortis sets in (that’s a lie; I do know how long that is), but that’s okay. That’s what research is for. But I do know my story. I know my characters and their motivations and their circumstances. Things might change in subsequent drafts, but for that first run, I write what I know.

Secondly, I write what I know in my life, too. I write about small towns in the middle of cornfields because I know that. “Spillway” is set at a lake I went to as a kid. “Another Deadly Weapon” features a car wash in my hometown and the main action takes place in a house across the street from where I live. The tree in “Bigger Than a Squirrel” is the tree across the street, too. The garage in “Game Night” is my garage. The walk home in “Wearing of the Green” is a walk I’ve done dozens and dozens of times. The town in Night of the Nothing Man bears a striking resemblance in places to my hometown. I know all of those things.

But you don’t.

And even if you do, I’m hopefully presenting them in a new way to you. If you think that’s impossible, ask my friend Natalie about that car wash.

“Write what you know” isn’t bad advice. In fact, it’s very good advice.

If you interpret it that way.

Writing–April Projects

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Fly in the rain

I’m fabulous, except when I’m not.

I tend to underestimate my ability to not get stuff done and that’s kind of what happened in March. While I did get the short stories written, revised, polished, and posted, and made progress on both Sooper Sekrit Projects (which will continue this month), other things didn’t happen. This month, they need to happen.

First on the list is Night of the Nothing Man. I will get it up on Smashwords before the end of the month come Hell or high water. It’s taken more revising than I anticipated, but I’m closer to finished now. It will get done.

And once it does, I can go right back to starting the next round of revisions on The World (Saving) Series. I was supposed to start them before the end of the month last month. That didn’t happen. I’ll get Nothing Man out of the way and I’ll get back to work on that.

I’ve also got an idea for another short story anthology. That definitely won’t get done this month, but I’ve already been looking at story ideas. I think a couple of first drafts of some new stories might get written during my early mornings.

Sometimes, it feels like I’m not getting anything worthwhile done. I know that I am, but sometimes, it really doesn’t feel like it. Without that immediate gratification of feedback or a paycheck or the feeling of being DONE, it’s easy to feel like you’re just spinning your wheels when you’re really traveling miles.

Such is a writer’s life.

About Kids…I’m Good, Thanks

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Happy Baby Miniature Goats

When I was younger, in my early 20’s, I thought that I’d end up having kids like all of my friends. It was kind of an expected thing. I figured eventually I’d get the hang of the relationship thing and then there’d be kids.

Of course, that didn’t happen.

As I got older, I moved more and more towards the fence that divides the “I want kids” and the “I don’t want kids” yards. For the last couple of years, I’ve been firmly sitting on that fence. But in a gap between the posts because I like to be comfortable.

And recently, I finally took my first steps into the “I don’t want kids” yard.

So now I have to explain myself because there’s nothing that brings out the villagers with their torches and pitchforks with the intent of burning someone at the stake like a woman that doesn’t want to have children.

First and foremost, I like kids. I like babies. I like toddlers. I like teenagers when I have the option of smacking them upside the head. My saying that I don’t want kids isn’t a declaration of war against them or parents. I like kids. I also like koalas and tigers, but that doesn’t mean I want one of my very own. I must admit, being an aunt is great. I can have the kids and then I can give them back. Like going to the zoo.

Like I said, a lot of my friends have kids. My Facebook friends and Twitter followers have kids. I grew up in a daycare. I am more than aware how great kids can be. I’m also very aware that they’re a lot of work. And I admit, I’m not sure that it’s work I want to do. I could do it, I know that. But I’m not sure I want to.

Facebook has been particularly helpful with this. I see the people on my list bitching about the schools and the doctors and the hospitals and other kids and other parents and I think to myself, “Bullet dodged, Matrix style”. I don’t think I have the patience or the energy to go dealing with that crap and I certainly don’t want to be the person that bitches about it. It sounds like a real drag.

Now, here’s the thing.

Just because I’m in this yard doesn’t mean I’ll stay here.

I don’t like to rule things out. It makes me nervous not to have choices.

It’s entirely possible that I could meet someone that would like to have kids with me. And I would be open to that idea. If I had a partner that was willing to do the work with me, being a parent would look a little more appealing. And since I’m not one of those women insistent on having the kid myself (I’m squimish about pregnancy anyway; Alien made a great impact on my life), acquiring a kid by other avenues means that my fertility (or my partner’s) isn’t an issue.

What I’m saying is that it’s entirely possible that I might one day jump the fence again.

But for now, about the kids, no thanks.

Book: Charlie by Shana Hammaker

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Charlie by Shana HammakerShana Hammaker and I have been mutually following each other on Twitter for a while now. It’s a consensual stalking based on the fact that we’re both writers, we both like scary things, and we both write scary things. (Yes, this is totally a namedrop. Eat your hearts out.)

Charlie is book one of Twelve Terrifying Tales for 2011. I like starting at the beginning, you know. I also wanted to read this one because it’s about a body that keeps popping up which reminds me of The Trouble With Harry.

However, a problem body is where the similarities end as Charlie is much more sinister than Harry.

Alex’s life is going along swimmingly. She’s got a job, a fiance, and a new house. It’s all peachy keen. And then a body turns up in her basement. A persistent little corpse she calls Charlie, it just will not stay buried.

This is a twisted little story that unearths more than just a corpse. It’s a tight, quick read that’ll have you double checking your basement.

And yourself.

Okay, maybe that’s just me. I’m easily influenced sometimes.

Still, if you’re looking for a short, creepy read, I highly recommend this one.