Tag Archives: writing

Acceptance: The Vector Calibration (for Intertwined, LT3)

I got the contract for this emailed through today and now I’m second guessing the title and fretting about my Facebook presence and augh.

But! Book! (Well, novella.) Long enough to get a print copy! I am excited.

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Acceptance: The Fear Collectors (Satalyte Publishing)

I’ve actually known about this since last November, but due to the holiday period and busyness on both ends, it wasn’t until today that I officially have a contract signed by me and Stephen Ormsby of Satalyte Publishing, for my novel The Fear Collectors. I have it right here on my desk. I may or may not be petting it lovingly between sentences.

It’s YA horror/fantasy. Think R.L. Stine (Fear Street more than Goosebumps) or Christopher Pike and that’s pretty much the vibe that my (hopefully!) cover artist Lucy Fekete got when she read it. Lucy has already made progress on a cover mock-up that’s super creepy and that I’m keeping my fingers crossed can be used. We work together and she has already illustrated a picture book written by one of our co-workers, Bronwyn Heeney, as well as many other projects, so I knew her style was what I wanted for The Fear Collectors.

I don’t have a publication date at present, but you can be sure I will make many more excited noises about this as it progresses.

Gods all bless, little book. I didn’t know which book would be the first, but with any luck, The Fear Collectors won’t be the last. (Because it sure as shit ain’t no To Kill a Mockingbird – oh, wait…)

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Continuum X: Sunday Night Awards Ceremony

So.

I knew why I was supposed to be dressing up; I was in the top three finalists for the ASFF Amateur Short Story Award. I’d worked on this short story, emailed it off, and waited — with a bit of nail-nibbling — to see how I went, and I’d received an email back saying to dress nicely for the awards ceremony because I’d be accepting one of the awards.

Shiny, I thought, and made sure my little black dress still fit.

The awards night was Sunday night. I was simultaneously wired on caffeine, sleep deprived, and my own usual brand of slightly loopy. I sat near the front for ease of access to the stage. My friend Narrelle was one of the presenters, so it was super fun watching her banter with her co-host, George Ivanoff. They presented the Chronos Awards first. I was expecting the Ditmars to be next, and then everyone to wander off to the bar while this short story award, which I had very inaccurately thought was the equivalent of Emmy for Best Dog Toenail Polish in a Postmodern Drama, was presented.

They did not.

There was a speech from Rose Mitchell (no relation) of the ASFF about how winners of this award have often gone on to win other, bigger awards. (No pressure, I thought.) There was the announcement of third place, and it was not me. I turned around and looked at my friend Figgy, who was there with me, and possibly raised an eyebrow in a that narrows it down way. I can’t be sure because I don’t think I can actually do that.

Then they announced second place, which was also not me. Despite the caffeine-sleeplessness-loopiness combo, I was able to do the maths. I turned around and looked at Figgy again with my mouth ever so slightly ajar. Her facial expression was the physical equivalent of the sound of squealing.

Then they announced first place and it was me and I had to figure out how walking worked. I wanted badly to look at the audience, to see those of my friends who weren’t manning the registration desk, and the new friends I had made, to see their reactions. I physically couldn’t, because if I looked anywhere but at Narrelle and Rose, I was going to fall over. I was in actual tears.

I made it to the stage, I got my certificate (and cheque! Woohoo!), I then made it back to my seat and collapsed into Figgy’s arms. I picked up my phone to tweet, because internet, and it wouldn’t work because the results were being livetweeted and as a result I had so many notifications already that the app crashed.

I wasn’t so out of it that I couldn’t applaud the rest of the awards, and make delighted noises when Tansy won things, but a lot of what I did was sit there being gobsmacked.

Then after the awards were done I had a bazillion people congratulate me. Tansy hugged me. Jim Hines hugged me, which was awesome. Sharon Moseley hugged me. I had handshakes.

And then I had Stephen of Satalyte Publishing (and his gorgeous baby girl Elizabeth) pull me aside and ask to catch up on Monday in the Dealer’s Den… but that’s just the beginning of that story, a story that I hope will unfold more over the coming months.

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Complexly inferior

I have my first class for Story, Genre, and Medium tomorrow (yeah, I am sticking to the subject plan I made months ago, as far as possible). It’s actually a two-day intensive workshop. At which, I fear, I will be unmasked as the total fraud that I am.

There’s a discussion board for what people want to achieve with their storytelling, what message they want to send out. Other people have said things about capitalism, asylum seekers, and other big important topics.

My post on there basically boils down to ‘um duh hi I write book’.

I shall continue to hope that there will be other people who are just out to tell a story in the subject, since not everyone who is in the subject has posted to this discussion board (I know this because more people have posted in the intros thread than in this other thread and I can still manage basic mathematics even if I can’t break my stories down into political soundbites).

Or I could turn up tomorrow in my Bazinga t-shirt and earnestly tell everyone why Chuck Lorre needs a punch in the junk.

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