An Exciting Announcement x 3

Last November, I submitted three stories for publication. To my surprise and astonishment, all three were accepted for publication. I'm still in shock. I'm waiting for someone to tell me they made a mistake. So far, no notices. So.... it's time to make the following announcement:

"The Beach House," about a woman being haunted by her childhood best friend and the impending end of the world, will be published in the anthology READING GLASSES by Hypothetical Press this August.

"The Dragon in the Kettle," in which a dragon's egg heating a blacksmith's forge hatches unexpectedly, will be published in TALES FROM FORTANNIS: A BARD DAY'S KNIGHT via Double Dragon.

"Bessie Returns," about the Loch Ness monster's cousin in Lake Erie, will appear in DIFFERENT DRAGONS VOL. II from Wolfsinger Press.

eHarmony - "The Enron of online dating"

Neil Clark Warren should be ashamed of himself.

After joining eHarmony for a trial subscription ending on Dec. 14th, costing approximately $20/month ($59.95 for three months), my account was then charged $49.95 for an additional month.  I had previously tried to close my account several times but was unable to because I had a 3-month subscription, and the website won't let you close out if you still have time on a subscription. So I had been very careful to make sure that the auto-renew feature was turned off prior to Dec. 14th.

Imagine my shock on the 15th when I checked my account, saw that it was still active and that I had been charged $49.95 for an additional month of a totally worthless service. I immediately called Customer Service, as there is a 3-day cancellation period in their terms and services.

Customer Service informed me that I had renewed my membership on Dec. 10th. I don't recall doing so, but I do recall looking at the subscription options recently to see if there were any changes to the available plans. I did not complete the subscription offer and therefore thought that my account would still close on Dec. 14th. There was no message stating, "Your membership is now renewed and you will be charged full price on Dec. 14th."

I was warned after I joined eHarmony about them charging to continue unwanted memberships, and was therefore very careful to be sure auto-renew was turned off. I had been travelling a lot for work that week, however, and clearly was not as vigilant as I should have been against stealthy charges.

Customer Service directed me to their email complaint department, which today informed me that they cannot issue me a refund and directed me to read the terms and services on their website. The terms say nothing about refusing to give a refund, but do include a 3-day cancellation period.

According to the email, they will not address the issue further and I have no other recourse. They won't even let me talk to a human person.

Since then I've found myriad complaints about eHarmony. The real shock is that Mr. Warren is an evangelical Christian, upon whose personal reputation the service is promoted.

Maybe I shouldn't be so shocked. Actually, I'm not. I'm just deeply disappointed and embarrassed on behalf of all the other evangelical Christians who get a bad rap because of charlatans like him.

One anonymous person wrote this on a complaint website:

Please tell everyone you know to avoid eHarmony. Online dating can work. There are honest and effective online dating sites out there. The top two competitors of eHarmony are both genuinely good sites. I know because I've used them since my experience with eHarmony.

I sincerely hope others are more fortunate and learn of eHarmony's deception before signing up. Because eHarmony will steal your money and according to the dozens of other complaints I've since read, they will renew your contract and charge your credit card even after you've cancelled.

eHarmony is clearly the Enron of on-line dating.

A friend gave me a good tip to avoid bogus charges on a website like this. You must enter a credit card to sign up, but what you can do is change the card to a Visa gift card that has no value on it.

Shostakovich and the Glory (or Odium) of the Internet

My son is doing a school project on Dmitri Shostakovich for his music class. He didn't know how to find the composer's greatest hits. I showed him how to search "Shostakovich Greatest Hits" and then take the playlist from the resulting Amazon.com CD listing.

Then I tried to explain about how when I was a kid, we went to the library. We used BOOKS. Some of them were called ENCYCLOPEDIAS. Our local library recently got rid of the entire Encyclopedia Britannica. A friend called me and asked if I wanted it. I did, but I had no room for it and had to pass.

Ouch.

Despite the slovenly ease of the Internet, I see books for sale all the time. I even see books for free. Recently, I attended a book festival and visited the tent of a small publisher that has published books by some of my friends. Both of their books were on the table. I bought one, having already ordered the other from the author. Then I was told that with a purchase, I get a book from the Free Table.

Ouch. May my books never be on the Free Table.

However, the free book I got looks really good. It's called Productive Procrastination by Kerul Kassel. The subtitle is "Make it work for you, not against you!"

Could it actually be wise to procrastinate sometimes? This book contains the secrets to understanding when it can be productive to procrastinate, and provides strategies for switching on the inspiration and motivation to start and finish the important tasks and goals you've been putting off.

Of course I've been procrastinating about reading it but I'll get around to it eventually.

It's All About Perspective

Bell Tower, Longwood Gardens

Perspective on our own work is nearly impossible to achieve in the beginning. We are scaling a tower and fighting dragons of doubt and incomptence to reach the prize at the top: a sense of self-worth. A feeling that no, I am not a delusional maniac with a multiply-split personality, but someone of vision and coolness and writerly awesomesauce.

That feeling lasts for about ten minutes when we actually finish a draft. Then we look down from the top of our completed manuscript, find we are dizzy and disoriented, and climb right back down to start all over again from the beginning. We repeat until we are so sick of that damned tower that we decide to go write poetry by the lake instead.

Eventually, however, we get jaded enough to gain real perspective. I believe that has finally happened to me ten years into my literary adventures. I finally have started to look at my work as... well... work. A draft is just something to be refined and edited like a report for my day job. This sounds callous but it's actually very freeing.

My soul's well-being no longer depends on someone liking my stuff. I know what I like. I know what sounds good. I know that there are lots of people who don't read the kind of stuff I write. Who aren't going to get the whole literary-fantasy thing.

One day I really do want to write a literary fantasy novel, about a character in another world getting to know himself. I want to write a fantasy literary contemporary novel, in which "she doth rise and toss the laundry into the washer with one meager cupful of viscous liquid, which when combined with cold water from the city supply doth miraculously make her clothing bright and fresh."

One day I shall write that report I jokingly mentioned on Facebook about how "68% of physicians are having affairs with their nurses and 42% of psychiatrists have unicorns to take notes for them during patient sessions." (I analyze health care provider surveys for a living. Sometimes you just gotta spice things up.)

Most importantly, I TRUST MYSELF. This is a huge thing, people. No longer will critique partners or casual commenters on my blog or Facebook cause me to rush to change a work I've slaved over yet again.

How did I get this way?

• Practice. Lots of it. Writing junk, seeing what works and what doesn't. 
• Talking to other writers, going to conferences and writers' group meetings
• Reading writing and agent blogs. 
• Having the courage to put a few things out there and getting some positive feedback from people who don't know me
• Realizing how very subjective anything to do with the creative arts is.
• Most of all... getting to know my characters inside and out. They guide me. They know what to do. 

As my friend February Grace says, "The characters are in control. I just take dication.

The Internal Dialogue Dilemma

Internal dialogue is the term writers use for the thoughts that run through people's heads, revealing emotions, prejudices, states of mind, and reactions to external events. My current story has quite a bit of it, as the character thinks she is being haunted. She lives alone and talks to a friend she runs with on the beach every night, but much of the action takes place in her house.

I tend to prefer to put internal dialogue in third person so that it blends seamlessly with the narrative. Other writers (and readers) prefer that it be in first person and italicized. I'm going to give you an example and ask what you think.

Third person (the way I wrote it):

     Amber strode to the door, pushed it shut, and locked both the knob and the deadbolt. She could call the police, but what would she tell them? That she thought she’d seen a ghost and her front door was open? She checked in closets, behind shower curtains, and any other place a person could hide but no bogeymen jumped out at her. Leaving the lights on, she went back to bed still clutching the flashlight.


First person, italics:

     Amber strode to the door, pushed it shut, and locked both the knob and the deadbolt. I could call the police, but what would I tell them? That I thought I saw a ghost and my front door was open? She checked in closets, behind shower curtains, and any other place a person could hide but no bogeymen jumped out at her. Leaving the lights on, she went back to bed still clutching the flashlight.


Only now we have dialogue buried in the midst of description, which requires paragraph breaks:

     Amber strode to the door, pushed it shut, and locked both the knob and the deadbolt.  
     I could call the police, but what would I tell them? That I thought I saw a ghost and my front door was open? 
     She checked in closets, behind shower curtains, and any other place a person could hide but no bogeymen jumped out at her. Leaving the lights on, she went back to bed still clutching the flashlight.


This is really disruptive, so I could take the internal dialogue out altogether:

Amber strode to the door, pushed it shut, and locked both the knob and the deadbolt. She checked in closets, behind shower curtains, and any other place a person could hide but no bogeymen jumped out at her. Leaving the lights on, she went back to bed still clutching the flashlight.

In my opinion, this version deprives the reader of valuable insight as to her state of mind.

Really, though, in the end, it boils down to personal preference. So, which of the three versions would YOU prefer?

I want to be good, not published

Okay, I DO want to be published. Let's get that clear. But I want to be published well.

I've seen several new writers publish bad work and get excited about it. I admit, there is a definite thrill to seeing one's name in print, but in the long run it's going to hurt you to have crappy stuff out there on the Interwebz or even - gawd help us - printed on actual paper.

It reminds me of the guy who had a sandwich delivery business to our office last summer. He called himself The Deli Man and came to the second floor every day with a cart containing sandwiches and salads. The sandwiches were bland and soggy and the salads were composed of barely torn up pieces of romaine and huge chunks of veggies that were impossible to eat without cutting them up further. He expressed interest in feedback and I politely gave it to him, but did he change the way he did anything? No. That's just the way he does it, he said.

In addition, the variety of offerings never changed. Even those of my colleagues (including myself) who were willing to put up with sub-par fare in exchange for the convenience of delivery, got tired of eating the same thing every day. So his patronage dwindled. He got snippy, took his food and went home. No one noticed.

The same is true of any other product. If you want people's respect and continued interest, you have to give them something worth consuming.

So that's why I'm taking my time with my novel and future stories. I don't just want to be published. I want to be good.

A Meditative Silence

I've been rather quiet here, other than my celebrations of alcoholic strawberries (yay!). The divorce has been final for a couple months and summer is our busiest time at work, so between home and office I've been pretty frantic. Also, the South Jersey Writer's Group has completed a very successful Kickstarter campaign and we will be publishing not one but TWO more anthologies. One is yet to be named and the other will be Tall Tales and Short Stories from South Jersey Vol. II.

So I've been wrangling those ideas onto the page when I'm not working or lawn-mowing. My ex-husband was the king of the yard, so I never had to deal with spinning blades of death until now.

My son found this joke in his Boy's Life magazine:
Q: What is a perfect summer day?
A: The sun is shining, the birds are singing and the lawnmower is broken.

Today happens to be one of those perfect summer days. The lawn is already mowed and I am taking the day off for the beach. This is research as well, of course, as it's been a while since I experienced Ocean City. We've had a very rainy summer. Ginger's story is going to get written one of these days. I'm just not sure when or how.

This morning as I sat in bed drinking my coffee, in the peaceful quiet of my own house, I thought of how I can't stress out anymore about being the perfect mother, the perfect writer, the perfect employee, or the perfect neighbor whose lawn is always well-tended. God gave each of us a certain amount of physical and mental energy. There's only so much we can do. When I was younger, I could blaze through my Saturdays in a manic burst and get everything done. Now I need a nap. Sometimes two naps.

The amazing thing is... when things don't get done, the world doesn't fall apart the way I thought it would. That's partly because I have excellent bosses who know the workload is crazy and are willing to be flexible and even pitch in to help when necessary. Diane and Susan, I love you and I love working for you. It's also because without my ex, God bless him, every little tiny thing isn't a crisis any more.

God is blessing me, too. In little ways, every day I see His grace. There are things that need to change about our lives but I am able to trust the One who knows me best to help me make those changes. I'm waiting on His wisdom and insight.

I'm writing while I wait.

Have a lovely weekend!