More Words. Neil Gaiman. Yesterday's Post.

As it turns out, I managed to write another 650 words last night while we waited around for the "An Evening with Neil Gaiman" event to start. The doors opened at 6:00, so we paid our admission, went inside and took our seats. Neil was not scheduled to start until 7:00, so I pulled out the notebook and set to work while careswen read. This morning I typed it into the laptop while I ate breakfast.

So yesterday's actual word count is 1150 words on "Untitled #41" (which really needs a working titled at this point).

The good stuff about last night:
Neil is always entertaining and one of the best readers around.
The stories and the poem he read was highly enjoyable.
The venue (The Riverview Theater) was excellent. Much better than crowding everyone into DreamHaven books.
They showed "Mirrormask" while Neil was signing in the lobby.
Popcorn with real butter!

The not so good stuff:
It took an hour to get from our home to the theater.
Slightly narrow seats.
Sitting for a long stretch.
The poor woman with the nasal problems behind and to my right.

Other thoughts:
While we were sitting in our seats waiting for Neil to come on, careswen leaned over and read to me a lovely passage from "Stardust." She looked at me and whispered in an awed kind of voice, "The man can really write." I agreed and allowed that I would be perfectly happy to write like that when I grow-up. Then I realized that I will never write like that. Ever. And that's okay, I'm perfectly contented to write like me, as long as I continue to grow and progress as a writer.

Neil told a story about how, early in his career, he showed a story to an editor friend and asked for their opinion. The editor friend called the piece, "Facetious twaddle." Neil trunked it, then pulled it out twenty years later, reread it, realized there was nothing wrong with it a second draft couldn't fix, fixed it, sold it, and promptly won an award for it.

There's a moral to that story.

"Mirrormask" was pretty to look at and entertaining. I'm glad I finally saw it.

Finally, in my post yesterday I wrote: I'm enjoying writing it (Untitled #41). I hope this doesn't mean it's going to suck.

To which careswen replied: Why on earth would you think it would work *that* way?

Simple. Every time I write something and I feel it’s going well and I've got a good story and I'm happy with the work and process, it gets slammed, smashed, and torn to little bitty bits during the workshop process. Any time I hate the piece, struggle to get it down, and genuinely believe it's trash and needs to be trunked or even deleted, it does well in workshop and everyone loves it.

Though I will admit it is about an even split between them among the stories I've published and sold.

I'm off to make some phone calls and clean house.

In Peace,
Michael

More Words. Neil Gaiman. Yesterday's Post.

As it turns out, I managed to write another 650 words last night while we waited around for the "An Evening with Neil Gaiman" event to start. The doors opened at 6:00, so we paid our admission, went inside and took our seats. Neil was not scheduled to start until 7:00, so I pulled out the notebook and set to work while careswen read. This morning I typed it into the laptop while I ate breakfast.

So yesterday's actual word count is 1150 words on "Untitled #41" (which really needs a working titled at this point).

The good stuff about last night:
Neil is always entertaining and one of the best readers around.
The stories and the poem he read was highly enjoyable.
The venue (The Riverview Theater) was excellent. Much better than crowding everyone into DreamHaven books.
They showed "Mirrormask" while Neil was signing in the lobby.
Popcorn with real butter!

The not so good stuff:
It took an hour to get from our home to the theater.
Slightly narrow seats.
Sitting for a long stretch.
The poor woman with the nasal problems behind and to my right.

Other thoughts:
While we were sitting in our seats waiting for Neil to come on, careswen leaned over and read to me a lovely passage from "Stardust." She looked at me and whispered in an awed kind of voice, "The man can really write." I agreed and allowed that I would be perfectly happy to write like that when I grow-up. Then I realized that I will never write like that. Ever. And that's okay, I'm perfectly contented to write like me, as long as I continue to grow and progress as a writer.

Neil told a story about how, early in his career, he showed a story to an editor friend and asked for their opinion. The editor friend called the piece, "Facetious twaddle." Neil trunked it, then pulled it out twenty years later, reread it, realized there was nothing wrong with it a second draft couldn't fix, fixed it, sold it, and promptly won an award for it.

There's a moral to that story.

"Mirrormask" was pretty to look at and entertaining. I'm glad I finally saw it.

Finally, in my post yesterday I wrote: I'm enjoying writing it (Untitled #41). I hope this doesn't mean it's going to suck.

To which careswen replied: Why on earth would you think it would work *that* way?

Simple. Every time I write something and I feel it’s going well and I've got a good story and I'm happy with the work and process, it gets slammed, smashed, and torn to little bitty bits during the workshop process. Any time I hate the piece, struggle to get it down, and genuinely believe it's trash and needs to be trunked or even deleted, it does well in workshop and everyone loves it.

Though I will admit it is about an even split between them among the stories I've published and sold.

I'm off to make some phone calls and clean house.

In Peace,
Michael