My Pushcart Prize-nominated story Burn, Baby, Burn is featured in the depths of some pretty outstanding literary fiction – all compiled into one fantastic anthology. I’m honored to be amongst them.
If you are looking for a Christmas present for someone….or, if you really love great fiction….or, if you are one of my family members who have a biological imperative to support my artistic endeavors then I proudly suggest purchasing a copy!
I’d like to also send out a special shout out to Crack The Spine’s editor, Kerri Farrell Foley – perhaps the hardest working and most dedicated editor I’ve worked with to date. It has been an absolute pleasure working with her. Her support has been invaluable!
If you find yourself reading through the pages and thinking, “Wow. These writers DO.NOT.SUCK” please consider leaving feedback on amazon’s page. So often, I’ve found myself loving something I’ve read and keeping those thoughts to myself. But, the success of these kinds of publications rely on reader’s feedback. Writers supporting other writers is a great way to increase your publishing karma (says me) and to support an industry we all want to see succeed.
And, if you read it and think, “Wow. These writers SURE.DO.SUCK” then you could maybe go ahead and keep that to yourself. I won’t mind.
Amazon Description: Crack the Spine. Bend a fresh book until your hands meet beneath its stressed strings. Feel the weight of words snap free. This anthology includes the best poetry and prose from Crack the Spine Literary Magazine’s weekly publications. Authors: Glen Armstrong, Sally Burnette, Jay Carson, Tobi Cogswell, Daniel DiFranco, Megan Dobkin, Melanie Faith, Janelle Fine, Christina Marie Glessner, Matt Hall, Brian Hobbs, Tim Kahl, Brianne M. Kohl, Priscilla Mainardi, Robert Marshall, David McAleavey, Sean Padraic McCarthy, Shaun Anthony McMichael, Greg Moglia, Annelle Neel, Jos O’Connell, Jeffrey Park, Eliot Parker, Laura Pendell, Jim Richards, Marilyn Ringer, Jason Ryberg, Carla Sarett, Rochelle Jewel Shapiro, Michael Dwayne Smith, Angela Maria Williams, Kirby Wright
When I was in grade school, we had a guidance counselor that would come around to each classroom and give self esteem presentations. She would talk to us with the help of a little blue whale hand puppet. We called the whale “Stanley” because she was Mrs. Stanley and because grade school kids are not always witty.
“Don’t blow my candle out to make yours burn brighter,” Stanley would say anytime one of us would pipe up in a nasty way. He said it a lot, I remember. Because, grade school kids are basically just sociopaths confined in a room together.
I like to toss this old chestnut out when I hear adults being nasty with one another because it is folksy and cute and because if a blue stuffed whale hand puppet can get away with that kind of condescension, I feel like I can do it, too.
I thought about it tonight while I was reading another blog post from another writer who felt the need to tell the world why NaNoWriMo was a bad thing. I try to keep an open mind about things and I am very genuinely curious about what writers have to say about their process. I’m not talking about those writers who stand up and say, “Hey, NaNo: Not my bag.”
I get that perfectly. It isn’t for everyone. Writers – artists in general – all follow their own path to creation. That is the sheer beauty of being an artist. We each go alone into the cave and whatever thing we walk out with is the product of our own mind and effort and inspiration. Sometimes, telling the world what doesn’t work for us is as helpful as telling the world what does work. I have no beef with you, non-NaNo writer.
The people I do have a beef with? The nay-sayers. The poo pants. The people that ridicule others because they are excited about something that sponsors creativity, literature, reading and community. I’m lookin’ at you, established (sometimes) writer who wants to talk about all the hacks out there with the balls to attempt something so hallowed and revered as writing a novel. Who are those people to try? What gives them the right?
It’s a bit like climbing Everest, isn’t it? Or, running a marathon. It gets popular and then all these people come out, thinking they are just as good as the folks who’ve dedicated their lives to the craft. The craft, I say! Who will protect the craft! It takes practice, people! It isn’t for the weak. Those of us that write for a living, do it with hard work and dedication! We learn, we practice, we fail! We are the worthy ones. You get off my mountain!
Except, of course, NaNoWriMo isn’t anything like climbing Everest or running a marathon. No one is going to die attempting to put 50,000 words down in November (unless you forget to eat. Don’t forget to eat, NaNo’ers! Water is important, too!). I’m not putting anyone’s life in danger by dedicating an entire month to writing (except, maybe my family that may or may not be waiting for dinner at just this moment).
Writing is a huge mountain and yes, it is true, the best always make it to the top. But, nothing is gained by putting others down for trying. The Office of Letters and Light, the non-profit organization that is dedicated to helping writers write is not some nefarious organization that is hell bent on world domination or the destruction of literature. If you are really such a great writer, stop putting other writers down and publish something people want to read.
Truthfully, most people who attempt NaNo will end up doing nothing with the novels they write in November. I know this is true because this is my fourth year doing it and none of my previous novels were ever published. Until this year, when I dumbly posted excerpts, no one had even seen a word I’d written. I did it because it motivated me. It made me dedicate time and effort to a craft that was important to me. It made me think in a different way – and as a consequence, I made it further in long form story telling than I ever could before.
At first, I did it quietly – I didn’t know a single other person attempting it. Over the years, I’ve gained writing friends and built a whole community of writers and artists from whom I draw a considerable amount of strength and inspiration. If nothing ever comes from it, if I never publish another story or write another word, it was still worth it. Because, I put words down on the page and it made me a better person for the effort. That is what art does.
Paradise awaits the writer that supports other artists. Likewise, people that can only build themselves up by putting others down are always doomed to fail.
Don’t blow my candle out to make yours burn brighter, asshole.
I was chosen based on the reactions my story “Burn, Baby Burn” received when it was released in Issue 74 last month. Thanks to everyone that read it and spoke out in their comments and Facebook page. If you haven’t read my story, please take a moment to head over to their site! You can read my story and their interview where I sound brilliant, self assured and amazingly attractive. Yep.
I have really gotten some of the loveliest rejections. Since I began submitting my work for publication, I’ve only gotten one rejection that felt unnecessarily rude. And, really, that was early on and if I went back and read it today, I’d probably realize that it wasn’t as mean as I thought. Early on, I was, perhaps, a little sensitive. Over 50 rejections later, I am a little tougher. I’m not a crocodile but I’m not a new born kitten, either. I guess I’m more like a sea horse? (In that I’ve learned to use my fancy tail to hook onto debris so I don’t get swept away by the current. Also, because I like to eat a lot.)
Pictured: Me. Vacationing on the coast
I’ve gotten loads of form rejections. The kind that tells you no in as few words as possible. They generally wish you well. They salute you in an absentminded way. You know what it is without even reading the words – the format tells you no and prepares your brain for the let down. I don’t mind the form rejection. It is clear and it closes the door with a strong snick of the lock. I walk away from the form rejection with a shrug and a “what can you do?” attitude.
The form rejection is a Jacques Tati pratfall – it will make you a little uncomfortable, it might hurt your ass a little but you can laugh it off. You want others to laugh it off with you. I mean, what were the odds of getting into The New Yorker anyway?
Not good, apparently
But, just recently, there has been a very specific trend of rejections floating my way: The “I love your writing but this doesn’t work for our next issue” rejection. The “you made it to the final round of deliberations but we’ve decided to go another way” rejection. The “you were a finalist but we had so many worthy submissions to choose from” rejection.
The “close but no cigar, sucka” rejection.
These are the ones that hurt the most because they hint at an opportunity lost without my knowledge or participation. The format of the note is chatty which the brain interprets as an acceptance. But, the words: the almost lover, the guy that liked you but liked your sister better. Those words might let you down gradually but they still let you down. They say, “Hey, you are good. But, just…you know…not good enough.”
Those are the ones that break the heart a little. I went back in, I’ll think. I went back in and changed that one sentence and that is probably why. I got a little heavy handed with the sea horse metaphor. But, I don’t love the sea horse! I can lose the sea horse! I’ll kill that God damn sea horse with my bare hands! It doesn’t work for your current issue? What about the next one? Or, the one after that? I bet I’d be great for the 10th issue from now!
Almost lover, why do you make me act like such a desperate tramp?
But, no, the near-miss is still a hit. The fall is less prat and more old lady with a broken hip. And, really, the end result is the same. It had nothing to do with that one sentence or that stupid over-used sea horse metaphor. It maybe had nothing to do with my writing at all.
So I nurse my aches and take my pratfalls. I smile at the fourth wall and I wait for the windfall that surely comes from persistence in the face of failure. It might not be a step up, but it is, at the very least, stepping across to a different ladder. And, if you are looking the right way, all ladders lead up, right?
Pictured: Me. Almost on my ass. Vacationing on the coast.
Note: I mentioned this once before, but it really is worth repeating: My story will be published in their online journal but it is now eligible for inclusion in one of their print publications. They take into account feedback left on their website and social media sites. So, if you like my story, please tell them. I would love the opportunity to reach a wider audience and for my story to be published in one of their esteemed anthologies.
I have a new story coming out this week at Crack the Spine Literary Magazine. It is a dark tale called Burn Baby, Burn. It was inspired, partly, by the novel We Have Always Lived In the Castle by Shirley Jackson – who, in my opinion had a way of writing Gothic Claustrophobia like no one else.
I will be published in Issue 74 and I could not be more delighted that Burn Baby found such a perfect home. Please look for it later this week. In the meantime, check out their “Meet the Contributors” section for more information.
An important note about Crack the Spine – my story will be published in their online journal but it is now eligible for inclusion in one of their print publications. They take into account feedback left on their website and social media sites. So, if you like my story, please tell them. I would love the opportunity to reach a wider audience and for my story to be published in one of their esteemed anthologies.
Last week, I had a crisis at work that diverted all my attention from creative pursuits. Needing a day job is an unfortunate reality for me. My fervent wish is that someday I won’t have to focus on technical writing but until that happens, the paying gig always has to take precedence. I really enjoy not living in a cave.
But even after things began to settle down a little, I realized I was trapped in a technical writing mind set. The fiction class I was in came to a close this week and we have a two week break before the next one starts up. Add into that mix IT issues and the eight rejections I’ve gotten in as many days and my inspiration and motivation levels have plummeted.
I was asked to participate in an interview with a fellow writer who wanted to pen an article on moving from fiction writing into technical writer. Her questions really made me think about the functionality of moving between two very different styles of writing.
Technical writing is forcibly succinct. No stage setting, no creativity and it tends to follow a very strict style guide. As a technical writer, you may or may not fully understand the subject matter at all times (which is why subject matter experts are essential). You need to know just enough to be dangerous.
Fiction writing is full of colorful word choice and syntax. No limit exists in the world of fiction. You can break all the rules and still be successful. There is something inherently satisfying about creating something with nothing but your own creativity.
Sitting in front of a computer and writing about technical things you don’t ever fully understand can be draining. It makes shifting gears over to fiction writing very difficult. So, I’m exploring ways to facilitate that shift.
Here is what I’ve come up with so far:
Go for a walk
Wherever you live, there has to be something beautiful to walk up to and admire. This is especially true for me because I happen to live in the middle of the boonies. We have deer living in our front yard. A hawk built her nest along our drive. I go visit the neighbor’s goats that live up the road. I really, really love goats. We live in a farming community so things are rustic and fresh and smell like grass. When I get really bogged down by work, I take a long walk. Art comes from beauty. Art, itself, is not always beautiful but the spirit that creates it is.
Discover something new
Recently, we drove up to Hanging Rock State Park and hiked the day away. We’d never been there before. I turned my cell phone off because my brain needed to recharge. I needed to live in the moment. We jumped in the car without planning anything – just started driving. It was the first sunny day in a long stretch of rain and it was like the lunatics were set loose from the hospital. It was a perfect day in the midst of a lot of stress. We got to the top and looked out for miles. On the way home, we stopped at a gas station that had two king sized candy bars for $2.22 and fountain soda. We ate 900 calories and laughed and sweated and told each other lies.
Try a mood altering substance
Ok, so if you have substance abuse problems, this won’t help you. We are all adults here – follow any advice I give you with care. But, if you are like me and you are wound super tight, you might need to relax. For instance, the other night, I had a glass (ok, ok, three. Jesus.) of wine and watched The Last Unicorn. While I did that, I wrote poetry.
Really bad poetry.
But, the point is, I was putting words together. My brain was loose. I was freestyling without fear of judgement. I came up with the following literary gems:
Something is breaking. Inside me, beside me.
I am on the cusp of something.
I dance alone, peeling potatoes, sweet potatoes
day after day, I can only be this.
and
Love is slowing you down,
You’ve turned inside out, a hung steeple
I picked you up on a doorstep
Every movement betrays you
(I don’t even know what some of that means. But, you know who does? Wine. Wine does.)
and (this one is my favorite)
I refuse to apologize
for the BLT I just ate
for following the bread crumbs
I was younger. I was younger once.
Wake up, she says to me. And, I chew on my pillow.
Mouth full of feathers.
Mouth full of sleep.
Seriously, some of those poems are literally taken straight from dialogue between Prince Lir and Amalthea (the unicorn’s name when she got magicked into a human by Schmendrick . If you haven’t watched or read it, you really should. That cartoon fueled my childhood). I’m not a poet by trade. Not even by desire. But, it does help me make word associations that I can use as inspiration or even to develop into unique sentence structure.
Not Weird.
Ask the gods for luck
You pick the god. Meditate, if that helps you. Spend time with your congregation. Go eat a boat load of Dim Sum and then rub the luck dragon on the way to the car. Whatever gets you there.
Luck Dragon gets me there
Read for pleasure, read for trade
Nothing gets me as excited about writing as reading does. If I read a shitty book, I think, “I could have written this! I can write better than this!” If I read a brilliant book, it makes me excited enough to try it myself. Holy shit, sometimes I just need to read. Because reading is important.
Books on writing can help jump start a creative brain. I’ve read a lot of them. Here are some of my favorites:
Take a mysterious picture and write your way into it
But, where do they lead!?
Revisit Past Glories
Most of my problems with inspiration stem from confidence issues. Writers are a delicate breed. We are both narcissists and suffer from an inferiority complex. We are children capturing lightening bugs in a bottle, pretending they are flashes of lightening. So, sometimes, I’ll go back and remember that one time I got two acceptances in two days. I’ll think about how amazing that made me feel. I’ll re-read something I’ve written that felt strong and good.
Here is a fact: if I did it once, I can do it twice.
And, if I can do it twice, I am capable of doing it a hundred times.
Brianne M. Kohl 