Post-Game Analysis

What I should be writing is a weekly account of my adventures in hopes that future classes, if they wish, can benefit from my experiences. And I will, I think. I took notes to make that possible. But as I've stated before, this blog exists primarily so that I can get my own head straight. Right now, I want to talk about big picture stuff.

Clarion West is over. I'm done. I survived. I wrote six stories. I read and critiqued the endless stream of brilliant words my classmates chose to share with me. Said classmates were excellent. A group of talented, funny, and very different individuals. Some wrote the sort of stuff I love to read. Others wrote stuff I never would have read on my own but which I was glad for the opportunity to experience. They were, in the end, my best teachers. I hope I was of some small use to them as well.

So, have I changed? Am I this stronger, faster, smarter version of my weak, slow and dumb pre-Clarion West self? Well, no. Of course not. Clarion West is not magic. It is, in fact, a very intense writing workshop. It changes you in the ways that very intense writing workshops change you. But yes. I've changed. In some ways I recognize and in others I think it will take me time to understand.

I am more optimistic and more driven about my writing than I was before CW. This is the biggest and most valuable change for me. It isn't enough, anymore, for me to write my stories and fiddle with my novel and occasionally, every six months or so, send something out to be rejected. I want more than that. I want to sell my book. I want to sell stories. I want to get rejections, as many as needed, so that people will look up and see me and notice what I'm doing and what I have to say.

This may seem insignificant to anyone who doesn't know me but let me assure you, optimism is not my mode. Hope is not something I do. Try is not a word in my vocabulary. Give up ahead of time is more my style. But I am going to change that, I'm going to make an effort and I'm going to push myself and it's going to be terrifying and people will probably hate me but I don't care. I have to do this. It's important.

As for the sort of changes future applicants are actually interested in, yes, I am a better writer after CW. Not in a huge way. Not necessarily in a way that would allow someone to look at a pre-CW piece and tell it from a post-CW piece, though I could. It's changed how I think about writing. Maybe it's allowed me to think about writing. There were things we discussed that I understood intuitively but which, once explained, I could consciously apply and check for in my stories. And there were things discussed that I never really thought about. My mind is now full of lovely writing metaphors that no one but myself and my classmates will ever understand.

Would I recommend it? Yes, with qualifications. Yes, if you can take that sort of pressure. Yes, if you are open to learning from writers who are at your level or only just above you in skill (your classmates are your main teachers). Yes, if you can be humble. Yes, if you can accept that there will be people in your class you disagree with, every week. Yes, if you can accept that not everyone is good at giving criticism gently and your feelings will get hurt. Yes, if you understand that CW is not magic, it is only very focused. Yes, if you have a sense of humor.

I will write about the individual weeks, soon. But it won't be particularly valuable. Clarion West is about the people, and I don't intend to blog about my classmates. Those experiences are ours and I don't feel comfortable giving them away. It was laughter and giddy excitement and self-doubt and tears. I made friends and I hope a few of those friendships will last. I am grateful for the opportunity.

Lockdown

I wanted to post tonight.

I wanted to post tonight because it's the last night.

It's the last night.

If tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life, does that mean tonight is the last day of my life as it is?

Is that a good thing?

I like my life.

I'm not good at wanting, at being excited. I've talked about that here. And sometimes, that means positive reinforcement sends me spiraling toward depression. And sometimes it means my emotions lock down. That's where I am now. Locked down. Too nervous to think or feel or want.

I'll probably start crying eventually. Out of joy and sadness and worry. But not yet. For now, I'm just doing. I'm packed. The muffins are done. There are, randomly, 64 bagels in the freezer. I may offer everyone some,   but, then again, they're frozen. So maybe that's a dumb idea.

I think, somewhere deep, my heart is shivering.

Muffins

Moving steadily into a state of quiet but enduring panic. Less Clarion and more the simple idea of leaving Sean behind.

Also Clarion, though.

I'm picking out muffins for him to bake next week. Muffins mean time apart, and him trying to see that I eat in that time. He used to make a batch of muffins every week for me to take back with me to college.

Yes. He did. He's that good.

Muffins make me want to cry.

Less than two weeks to go!

It's the ninth.

My last day of work is the 21st. I know a lot of my classmates are going nuts, trying to finish up work projects, get packed, and generally prepare to move to Seattle for six weeks. I don't have that problem. Work is as busy as it is. I'm too small a cog to have projects. There's the move, of course, but I have no control over when that happens. It was supposed to happen last week, but we're still in the same old digs. As for moving, well, I'm moving like, two miles. It's not a huge concern. If I need anything, I'll just have Sean run it over.

At this point, I have nine work days left, total. Three days off. Weds, Sun, Weds. Five days of listing. Two days of floating. Two days of mail.

I'm worried about dumb things now. I'm worried about not having read as many of the books on my 'before Clarion' list as I'd hoped. I still have a little time but not much. I'm worried about which of my stuffed animals to bring (probably all my squishables plus Wolfie, of course). I'm worried about how I'm going to find everyone at the airport. That last one is especially dumb. But, see, I understand the airport. Picking people up from the airport is an activity I have engaged in before.

Clarion is this big wall of mystery and OMG that starts right after the airport ends. So, airport worry it is.

In other news, I got a rejection from Clarkesworld the other day. Not even a good rejection from Clarkesworld. Ahh, well. Onward!

Lists

Math first (last weeks was a bit off): Four more mail days. Three more Boy days. Three more family Saturdays. Three more days as a Floater. Ten more days of listing. Twenty-three more days of panic (not counting today).

I've been thinking I should make a packing list, but I'm also sort of incapable of it. Sean'll be so close, I'll be able to get anything I need, so I can't bring myself to worry.

But, generally, I'll need:

A week's worth of clothes. (Include at least one fancier outfit, just because)
Stuffed Animals
Laptop and Charger
Headphones
MP3 Player
Meds
Notebook/pens/pencils
Paper? (I have no idea what the printing and such situation is, will have to check the packet again)
Headset
Muffins (Yes, muffins)
Instructors' Books
Sheets/blankets/pillow
Towel
PSP (I'm sure I'll have not time for it)
Idea Notebook
Toiletries (Toothbrush/paste, brush, bodywash, shampoo, facewash)
'Questions' book (dumb, but amusing, to me at least)
Phone
Wallet
Fan? Maybe... I don't usually like fans. In fact, I kind of hate them.


That's all I can think of just now. Maybe more will come to me over time. But, like I said, I can just have Sean drive down anything I'm missing, or pick it up in the U District.

One Month

It's the 22nd of March. Move in is in exactly one month. A month is such a reasonable, understandable section of time. I can break it down into segments, know what's going to be happening, week by week, day by day. Sunday, I get my hair done. Next week, I meet with my local critique group. The first two weeks of June is for moving at work. The third week of June is for panic. And then it's over. That's it. Four more days being a floater at work. Five more days doing mail. Fifteen days of listing. Four precious, fragile Sundays to drink Sean in as best I can. Four Saturday night dinners.

And then...

And then I don't know. I'm in the neutral zone right now. Neither excited nor scared. Clarion feels mythical, more of an idea than something that will actually happen. This is pretty common for me. To take something big and hide it from myself, so that I can still function as a human.

In exciting news, I just finished 'In Another Life' a story I'm at least hesitantly optimistic about. We'll see how it does in critique, but I think I finally got it on paper in a way that works. The story idea has been bugging me for awhile, so I'm pleased. And I'm proving to myself that I can complete stories on a more regular basis. Short fiction is still not my go to form, so I'm trying to get into the mindset.

Rules

I just finished Ellen Kushner's Swordspoint for the second time. I read it years ago and enjoyed it at the time.   A few weeks ago, I stumbled across a short story by Kushner and loved it. I spent a week hunting for Swordspoint in every bookstore in Seattle and finally had to give in and order it off the internet. Some books fall flat on a second reading. Not this one. This time, I didn't enjoy the book. I loved it.

I do wonder why that happens, why sometimes what seems merely good on a first reading shines the second time. Maybe it's just changing taste. Maybe it's reading as a writer and recognizing the talent.

Since finishing, I've been thinking about rules, and styles, and what they mean to me.

Generally, I write in close third for my longer fiction and first for my shorter pieces. I did write, and publish, a piece written in second, but that was an experiment that just happened to work. I'm proud of it, but I wouldn't say it's something I plan on repeating.

I never write in omniscient. If you had asked me before I settled into Swordspoint, I would have said I didn't like omniscient. I might even have described it as old-fashioned. I certainly would have said that current trends favored first-person in the YA market and close third in most speculative fiction.

But you know what? I'm an idiot. I'm an inexperienced, insecure writer who pays too much attention to the 'rules' more experienced writers talk about. I think about keeping my prose transparent even though some of my favorite prose is lush and visible. I worry about the fact that my most recent story is first-person present tense because I've been told that's amateur  Nevermind the fact that there are some short stories in the same style that I've loved. And I avoid omniscient.

Of course, maybe I'm just scared of it. Doing it right is hard. Doing it wrong is easy. But maybe I need to be willing to do more wrong things. The time to take chances is now.