unpublished writers

Why?


This is the question I ask myself. 

Rob is a regular reader of a blog called, Ask and Ye Shall Receive, which should go on to say “a bum-hole reaming” because that is the main fare. At least it seems that way to me. Rob reads the reviews to me, and no, it’s not because I lack the ability. I just lack the time, and if your husband offered to read something to you and it saved you the trouble, wouldn’t you be grateful? 

Nearly every review I have heard so far has been about a blog the reviewer finds wanting. And the reviewers? Soulless. It’s blogging without pity. Funny as hell sometimes, but at other times it’s like watching that girl in your class, the no one liked because she smelled a bit off and stood too close, get up in sophomore English to read a poem she wrote about love with teething jarring rhymes and definitely about the captain of the basketball team whose catty too-cute-to-exist cheerleader girlfriend was sitting two rows over and snickering with her Sweet Valley High amigas. Painful. Just. Painful. But you can’t look away and you still kinda laugh. Which makes you feel hell-bound yourself.

The most recent reaming was a freelance writer who submitted her mommy blog. Apparently, it is written from her baby’s point of view. E for creative non-fiction effort, I suppose. The reviewer’s main objection was the lack of writing. They hate non-writing blogs. Nothing garners more scorn than the inability to string words, sentences and transition from one paragraph to the next. And I can see their point to a point, but the genre was not created for writers, we merely co-opted it and did it better.

“You should submit your blog.”

What?! 

I love my husband’s confidence in me. Every writer should have a husband like mine. But no way in hell will I ask to be critiqued on this little slice of the blogosphere. My own readers, and just Internet flotsam in general, offer me all the dressing down I care to deal with and then some. I don’t really need to invite someone with intent.

I am not theme oriented. I no longer believe I can be a blogger of note. I am not even funny. I don’t know why I have the audience I do. I am not that interesting, famous or destined for greatness in a Huffington Post sort of way. 

And I know that Christina Katz and J.A. Konrath would scold me for saying so, but this blog isn’t exactly platform building. At least it didn’t start out that way though it seems for moment this is my office of sorts. I blogged initially as an exercise. First for grief relief and then to sort my way through the initial rebuilding of my life, and somewhere along the way, people began to read. The writing as a career thing is johnny come lately here, and it is sometimes still too personal. I don’t think Helen Humphreys has a blog at all although Nancy Kress does, and it is career oriented.

“You’re just being a chicken,” Rob said. “The Ask people’s biggest objection is the lack of writing. You’re a writer.”

Okay, I can cop to that, but I am having trouble letting go of the idea my blog is a personal space where I can write without worry, judgement or pressure. This is clearly not where I am heading, is it? I am taking steps away from that model and heading towards the coveted, semi-openness of the writer’s blog, the platform. It’s kind of sad.

I am still not going to ask to be mercilessly raked over the coals reviewed.

The Friday Update


I answered the phone yesterday and when the young woman asked for Robert I was fairly certain I was dealing with a telemarketer.

“He’s not available. Can I take a message?”

“Well is this Shelley?”

Now I am certain she’s a telemarketer.

“Shelley died.”

“Oh, I am so sorry. Perhaps you could help? I am calling on behalf of Stephen Harper’s Conservative Party.”

I refrained from asking her why that nob thinks the party is his alone and interrupt with,

“I’m an American. I don’t vote here.”

“Oh, I am terribly sorry. Have a good evening.”

It wasn’t quite three in the afternoon, so she must have been out East and I wondered if she knew something I didn’t, but a quick scan of the headlines at MSNBC revealed that the U.S. hadn’t completed its slow implosion, nor had the solar winds ripped away the atmosphere hovering above it so it was indeed still there.

An interesting punctuation mark at the end of my work day. I’d just gotten back from town where I set up my own checking account to deal with business expenses and hopefully payment someday soon. I felt like a 50’s sitcom wife, setting up her little hobby business. Except I am my business and I am not a hobby. It was odd, however, because I have had my own banking accounts since I was 15 or 16 years old and I still have accounts back in the old country.

Reminded me a bit of getting the credit account at the furniture store a few weeks ago, stepping back and seeing how different I am. I had refused to merge my accounts with my late husband’s because I was so worried about losing my identity to that of Mrs. My mother had beat it into our heads as young women that we should never be without money or credit in our names alone.  It was too dangerous in a world where women are still not quite equal.

With the continuing collapse of the financial world, I should be more militant but I have a feeling that in the end, things like credit histories and the like aren’t going to matter all that much.  I hope I am being too much of a pessimist, but American currency seems a dubious bet right now and joint or separate – it’s all the same, heading toward worthless.

On a brighter note, I will hit 70,000 words today or tomorrow and be done by Christmas. That is two weeks later than my original goal but I got tangled up a bit on my timeline and needed to go back and read some email and the like for clarification.

I was reminded by a woman in my Fort writing group about the Writer in Residence at the U of A only being available to critique manuscripts until the beginning of April, so I will have to get on reading and revision quickly in the New Year. Can’t let a free service like her go to waste.

Rob is chomping at the bit to read. Usually I let him read and edit things as I work, but I have been selfish with the memoir. I did read him a bit the other night and he liked it. Good sign.

My thwarted columnist ambitions are still on the hunt for other opportunities. I hesitate to seek out another blog contributer position because even with the exposure, it’s still working for free. I am keeping my eyes open. At this point anything I find is at least good practice. I plan to sign up for a course or two via Writer Mama. Perhaps define my area of expertise and work on short creative non-fiction?  Still deciding.  Kind of like the business cards.  I think I need one but haven’t decided on the wording or look. I am a WIP just like my memoir it seems.

BabyD’s Christmas concert was last evening. They call it “Christmas” here. None of that “winter holiday” stuff. Typical elementary performance. Mercifully short. I am a terrible person who really would prefer not to watch other people’s children sing badly, so I was fine with the abbreviated length.

Last day of freedom for me today, so Rob and I are eating in town. Our usual sub joint.

It’s cold. An old high school friend’s FaceBook update indicated that a woman knows it’s cold when she has cl*tcicles hanging from her lady cave*. It’s not that cold.  But the hairs in my nose freeze or thaw depending on the direction of the air flow and fingers are sandpaper from dishwashing these days. -31C yesterday morning and worse is to come for the new year.

And that’s the week, dear readers. Do stop by Monday. I’m having a book giveaway! Joshua Henkin will personally autograph and send a copy of his novel, Matrimony, to one of you – wherever you are in the world – and all you have to do is drop by and comment.

*I am paraphrasing somewhat. Disturbing vision though, eh?

On Becoming a Columnist


I can’t imagine a better job than writing a weekly newspaper column. Being paid to comment on life as it swirls around me?  Could employment be more intellectually and creatively stimulating?

Not in my opinion.

For my birthday, Rob gave me a book on the art of writing columns that a columnist I know recommended to me. It is one she uses in the writing course she teaches. I have read just the first few chapters and find it quite helpful.

This same writer friend also urged me to simply begin asking after writing opportunities via my local papers. This is a bit of a problem. There are two local papers. Both are free and more ad than news or other content. The Post is owned, written and published by one man. I have tried to submit to him before and was informed that he only takes letters to the editor. He does not need anyone to help him with content – of which there is precious little. The Post is the newspaper equivalent  of a vanity book. The only difference being that it is read. I think as many people read The Post as read The Record, which is the “official” newspaper of Fort Saskatchewan.

I prefer dealing with the editor of The Record. He is a nice kid. Always happy to get tips on feature stories and never ignores an email.

I needed to find out if The Record would be interested in running a story about my writing group’s anthology project and decided that since I was contacting the editor anyway, I would ask about column opportunities. Specifically I wanted to know how a person went about becoming a columnist.

The book I am reading is a wealth of information on what columnists do but makes the path to a regular column sound a bit like pulling a sword from a stone. Not one of the columnists the author interviewed, and she includes herself, could pinpoint the steps to achieving this lofty thing called “a weekly column”.

The editor responded to my query in less than an hour. They didn’t have money to pay columnists was the first thing he wrote. I wasn’t surprised. It’s a free newspaper. He also went on to inform me they weren’t looking to expand their stable of columnists at the moment but were always open to new ideas and pitches but – isn’t there always one? – they liked columns written by experts.

Experts. Sigh. I am not an expert in any field. Frankly, I don’t read that type of column unless I am in need of information. Usually it is just easier to google information than follow an advice column in the hopes he/she one day writes about what I need to know.

The Record’s columnists include a couple of ministers and a woman who I think works in the mental health field. She is always writing about depression. There are many, many forms of depression and just as many ways to write about it.  Somehow she manages to write nearly the same thing every time however. I don’t know what the holy men write about because neither are very good writers.  Oh, and I’m not holy inclined to waste the minutes required to find out what concerns them enough to write about. Okay, that was unkind.  They are “technically” good, can’t fault their mechanics, but they are boring and that is just wrong.

I am glad I included my query in the email. I am not at all surprised to be politely sent back to my own little corner.  Now I can check this possibility off my list and look for others.

I do think it is a little sad my own local paper errs on the side of informative rather than enlightening or entertaining but when you have only a tiny bit of space for local politics, news and sports between the ads, the stuff which makes people think or smile is often sacrificed.

Sometimes I am informative. Mostly I am just someone whose writing about life is something others can relate to and, in a world where people feel alone more than part of humanity at large, this is important too.