Author: Jonathon

SJ Tucker and her sweetie K came over to the house last night for dinner. We did not make her sing for her supper, though she did bring her guitar which I’ve discovered goes with her everywhere like my writer’s notebook accompanies me. Carri and her wife, Pili, came over, too. Jon and I made six for dinner and conversation. Appetizers were some of the sweetest cherries, blueberries, and raspberries that I’d had in years from a grocery store. Pili had shopped for them and she just has this uncanny knack of picking the best fresh ingredients. She bats those big eyes and grocery store employees will cheerfully go into the back of the store to find her just that freshest pick. She manages to make them happy to help her, and to feel good about doing it. It’s like a magic power. One, I do not possess. She says, it’s because I won’t stoop to the levels she will, but I’m not sure I could do it even if I tried.

Dinner was sushi take-out from one of our favorite restaurants. Last time SJ and K were over for dinner Jon and K drove out to get food so this time I went to pick up and Carri came to help carry stuff. We always tend to over order at this place, because there’s always something we’ve never tried before. When we got back with food Pili was drawing on SJ’s back with markers, while K over saw the design, and Jon watched. Why were they doing that? SJ told me she wanted to get a new tattoo, but she wasn’t sure about it. I suggested that maybe Pili could do for SJ what she’s done for Jon and I, use her artist skills to draw the designs we think we want so we can wear the art for awhile and see if we really like it. Jon and I have found one small tattoo that she’s drawn on us two, or three times, and we miss it when it’s gone. We may actually get that one at some point. Not sure when, though. I mean a tattoo is forever, and what seems like a good idea now, well, will it still seem like a good idea when you’re eighty?

They’d come up with a completely new design while Carri and I were gone. I mean the group they. Leave a bunch of writers, musicians, and artists alone for awhile and you get some pretty interesting stuff happening. The design looked very cool on SJ. K got a copy in his computer so they wouldn’t lose it. But the tattoo that SJ had actually wanted first wasn’t quite right. So it needs to stew on the proverbial drawing board awhile longer, but they were closer to what she might want. I know how that feels, because I’ve come up with two larger tattoos that I really like and missed when they faded, but the design isn’t quite right yet. If you’re going to wear something forever it better be right before it goes on you. I’ve been scouring the internet for pictures to show Pili because I cannot draw the way K can to explain what I want. There’s nothing like what I want on the internet, but things that can give the artist the idea. Once we get the design right then it’s time to bite the bullet and find an artist to draw them on me in something more permanent than marker. But first something smaller, just in case.

Conversation at dinner ranged from stories from Arkansas, incidentally where SJ, Pili, and I, are all originally from. But SJ and Pili had stories from this one town, Blytheville, AR. Pili had a friend who was a EMT there, and SJ’s friend was a policeman. No one tells better stories than emergency personnel and cops. Okay, you gotta get the humor, if you don’t like your humor dark or weird you would have been at the wrong dinner. But then if you aren’t into dark, weird and funny, you’re most likely not a close friend of ours. Let’s just say stories involved very large rodents, road kill that wasn’t, abuse of a potato, and things not to do with Vaseline and electricity, plus two killer squirrel stories. The squirrel stories were actually Carri’s and Jon’s stories respectively and were not set in Arkansas. I helped Jon tell part of his because I was there for that one. We told stories of failed dates, or puzzling opportunities. Jon had more of those. He was always so bad at dating. I was one of the friends that would give him advice after the dates had gone wrong. Never expected that all that friend time would eventually prepare us for dating each other. Someone asked, “How did you date him?” K replied, “She knew what to expect.” So, very correct. K and SJ still have the most romantic first meeting story that I’ve ever heard in real life. Then there was the tasting of the two new sushi dishes one of which we all loved and one that I hated. As in, grab a napkin and who wants the uneaten part, because I am soooo done. Everyone else loved it. Ick.

SJ and K had to leave to finish packing because her next concert is in Chicago and they were headed out the next day. We all wished them safe journey, and then Pili and Carri had to run home to rescue their own puppies, and it was time for Jon and I to call it a night. A very good, very fun, always interesting, night.

Made Pippin and Sasquatch, the dogs, very happy today. I went shopping for the dogs this weekend personally rather than giving it out as an errand which means that I got fresh dog food. This included gravy and chunks packets to go over the dry dog food. No one seems to remember those but me. The dogs both really, really like these packets. In fact Sas was making high pitched keening eager food noises in his throat over and over as I mixed the food for them. Pip capered and jumped around me. He’s half boxer and that means he can jump very high from standing to straight up. I’ve never had a dog that could jump shoulder high before, it’s a new experience after the pugs. Pugs are not big on being airborne. So first yummy food for the dogs. Then we did something even better took them for a walk.

My physical therapist suggested at our last visit that I try walking the dogs. If that worked well then when I go back to see him I’m to bring jogging shoes and use the treadmill. So this morning after almost a year of either Jon being injured with his knee then recovering from the operation to fix it, and then me injuring my ankle so badly they were talking surgery at one point, we walked the dogs together. I can’t tell you what a thrill it was to simply be outside walking the dogs on a beautiful summer day with my husband and both of us able to do it. I didn’t appreciate the simple act of being able to walk around my neighborhood. I took it for granted, well, no more. It was wonderful. For the late Father’s Day dinner for Jon and his step-father I was able to wear jogging shoes with no back, mules yes?,  and jeans. I look better in the boots which I still need on some days for ankle support, but being able to wear jogging shoes out to dinner was a great moment. I have not been able to wear jogging shoes for over a year. I’ve never been so happy to look less well dressed in my life.

Next PT appointment I get to use the treadmill. I have no words to express how excited I am about that. Anyone who saw me on tour with the cane and quite a bit of pain will understand just what a big difference some aggressive physical therapy has made in a short time.  If I’d been smarter and gone back to my doctor earlier it wouldn’t have gotten as bad, but she’d said surgery. I swear what I understood was if it didn’t get better when the pain got too much come back and they’d operate. After tour I was ready for anything that would fix my ankle, but when I went to her she actually thought I’d made progress from the wee amount of physical therapy so she prescribed more. She told me unless the pain was sharp to just work through it. Or that’s what I understood, please do not hold my doctor to my rather “guy” understanding of her instructions. But however you interrupt it it’s working. I’m hoping that my physical therapist gives me the okay to start using the treadmill at the gym. Fingers crossed.

The blog is up as promised. Jon and I have an unexpected date night, so in the interest of good time use short blog tonight. Lot’s of work today, lot’s accomplished, but never seem to come to the end of the to-do list. I guess that’s better than always getting to the end of it. Though some day I might like to experience the end of the to-do list. Hmm.

I have taken the weekend off; mostly. I know that’s what most people do, but honestly, when I take a whole weekend off and don’t have something specific and fun planned I end up feeling very at loose ends. I’m sure it’s all those years of working nearly constantly. I’m just not used to the concept of down time without a plan to it. I think I’ve lost the knack of doing nothing.

Jon suggested that instead of trying to do the whole weekend off all at once, cold turkey, that maybe tapering off would be better. Perhaps he’s right. Or maybe I just don’t know how to relax at home with the office right there. It is one of the downsides to working from home. Maybe that’s why going to the Keys in Florida, or visiting friends out of state works. I can’t just walk over to the office and work, it’s too far away. It also works to have friends over to our house, though, because it’s rude to work when friends are over. I may delay plans by a little bit, but if I’ve made plans with friends I do my best to keep them.

So, I guess lesson learned. Work part of the weekend, but take some time off. Make specific plans at least part of the weekend so I don’t feel at loose ends. But frankly to truly relax for more than a few hours I’ll have to get out of Dodge. A long weekend somewhere sounds like a good idea.

Remember tomorrow the Forums and the blog go down 9 AM central time. The blog should be back up by Tuesday, but the Forums will be down a week. 

This is a blog for all the newbie writers that have been asking me questions both on the Forum and on Twitter.

Basic Format:

1. Professional presentation of your manuscript is important. Editors see thousands of manuscripts in a year’s time. Do not, repeat, do not try to stand out by choosing bright paper or colored script, or Gods forbid a nonstandard type face. No Gothic scripts, or swirling lettering, please. You may get noticed but not in a good way. It just gets you a faster trip to the waste basket or tucked back in your SASE and sent back home.

2. Anyone who didn’t know what an SASE is, shame on you. Do your homework. Self-addressed-stamped-envelope. It means when you send your literary child out in the cold cruel world you tuck an SASE in with it so that if it doesn’t sell to that magazine or anthology the stories chances of coming back to you are increased ten-fold, or more. I know editors that will throw away a manuscript unread if it comes in without a SASE inside the first envelope. It marks you as an amateur and editors don’t have time, or desire to deal with amateurs. Even if you are one, you need to look and sound like you know what you’re doing.

3. At the top of the page in far right corner put a header that looks something like this: L. Hamilton/New Story/1 all other pages have the same header except for the page number which should change, if it doesn’t you’ve done the header incorrectly do not send a manuscript out with every page numbered as 1. You think I’m joking; I am not. Choose just one keyword from the story title, or two if you think it’s necessary. If your title is more than two brief words long never, ever put all of it in the header. It makes the header huge and distracts the eye from the story. By the by, make sure it’s your initial and last name, not mine. Again, you think I’m joking, but I’m not. Some people are even more literal than I am which is saying something. Everything I put in this blog is interesting choices that I’ve seen personally, or heard from editors, that beginning writers have actually done.

Why a header at all? Envision the editor’s desk piled high with manuscripts. What if there is a paper avalanche and the pages of several stories get made into a heap on the floor? If you don’t have a header with your name and part of the title in it, how will the editor separate all of it? If all the pages say only page such and such, then the editor, or her assistant would have to go through all the pages and try to sort them by writing style. Trust me, not happening, it can all go into the trash together. The editor is not heartless, the editor is swamped. They do the best they can, but if you make their jobs harder then they will not want to work with you. Period.

4. Your full name and address should go at the top of the first page, but not in the header. You want them to be able to find you so they can buy your story, right? By the time they decide to buy it your original envelope may be long gone, and even if you put a SASE in with your story, it too, may have gotten lost. It happens, make sure if the editor wants to buy your story they can find you to do that. I have had editors tell me stories, and even in one case a whole book, that had no address on the manuscript and they could not find the writer to give them the good news, thus they couldn’t buy the story, or book.

5. Double-space; always double-space.

Everything I have just told you can be found in your local library in the reference section. As can a copy of the current Writer’s Market, and back issues of "The Writer" and "Writer’s Digest".

6. The above brings me to this nugget of wisdom. Research your markets. Find out what kind of stories a magazine, or a publishing house buys, before you send them your story, or book. Example; do not send your swash-buckling far future space opera to a magazine that only buys horror stories. Writer’s Market will have the editor you need to address your envelope to, and what their needs are, now by the time Writer’s Market is published their needs may have changed. There is nothing you can do about that except check on-line and see if they have different requirements on-line. If so, they maybe more up to date because it’s easier to up date on-line then in an already printed book. On-line may even tell you if an editor has moved on, though no new editor will hold it against a writer if the name on the envelope is their predecessor. If the name is three editors ago, they may hold that against you because it shows a lack of work on your part. Exception to this rule is if there has been a really fast change-over and you had no way of keeping up. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. So chill, they won’t blame you for not keeping up with a harsh game of musical chairs.

7. Cover letters: do you need one? I always found them really problematic. I mean, all you really need is a brief message telling them this is your story/book, you hope they buy it, and you thank them for their time and attention. All of that seems pretty self-evident. My habit was to put one in a book manuscript but not in a short story. The exception to this rule is if you are uniquely qualified to write this piece. Example; you write hard science fiction and you really are a rocket scientist. By all means put that in a brief letter with your manuscript. Need another example; if it’s a mystery story and you are a career cop, or a coroner, say so. It will may make an editor put you in the second look pile just because of your background.

Do not lie about your background to get in the second look pile. That’s tacky and eventually you will be found out. 

8. Do not make the letter more than one page. Frankly, shorter is better usually. If the cover letter is pages and pages you have just killed your story’s chances of selling. I’m sure someone on the internet can find me some example where a heartfelt letter made a cold-hearted editor buy their story. Maybe, it’s even true, but all the editors I know if the cover letter is longer than a page the manuscript even goes back in it’s SASE or in the trash if there isn’t an SASE enclosed.

9. Query letters: that letter you write to an editor or agent asking them if they will look at your story, before you send it. Go to the library or the above reference books and magazines for this one, I’ve always sucked at query letters. But if you send one, then ideally the editor writes back that they’d love to see your book/story and you mail it to them stating in the cover letter that editor, Amelia Somebody, has requested you send this, remind them they said yes, because they see thousands of manuscripts a year. Be gracious, always, and thank them for their time either way.

Remember your manuscript is your job interview. A job interview where they cannot see your baby blues, or your new tailored suit, or your great boots. Do not, ever, send a picture of yourself with a manuscript. Do not, ever, send a semi-nude or more, picture of yourself, with a manuscript. Even, and maybe especially, if you write erotica do not do this. One, it’s creepy, and two, it will get your manuscript thrown in the trash faster than you can say, bad idea. You’ve done your part and done a professional presentation now let your words stand on their own. Have faith in yourself and your work, and good luck.

It’s after ten o’clock and I’m back in my office. The next book deadline is months away. There is no emergency looming. I’ve decided that ten is the new witching hour for me, by that I mean if I’m still working at ten and it’s not an emergency, or the muse is not whipping me hard, then I’m done. So, I’m done for today.

There was comic stuff to go over, there were pages done on Merry, and other projects touched upon, but it’s time to collect my husband and go to bed.

Oh, Jon wanted me to give you guys a heads up that the Forum will be down starting Monday for a week. He and the other techies are moving everything, rebuilding it, replacing stuff, and just overhauling it all. The blog will be down for a day, but then it will be back up. The blog is apparently a lot more simple to move. Twitter will tweet along unhampered by the rebuild. So to be very clear:

Forum down starting Monday June 29th and back up July 6th.

Blog down Monday June 29th back up June 30th.

Twitter will have no down time, but continue uneffected.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, so I’ll just let the images below show the beauty and athleticism of the fire-spinning. It was the hottest day of the year so far so K informed us that some of the more spectacular feats were a no-no. Fine with us, safety first.

Every couple falls in love because of something. I don’t mean the usual things, but there is something in common, some moment, some special something that makes you look at each other differently. For Jon and I it was dancing. My ex would never dance with me. He was actually happy that I had a friend that would dance with me so he didn’t have to listen to me complain about it. At first, it was just cool to have someone to dance with at SF conventions, and at concerts. Jon actually took me to my first concert. It was "My Scarlet Life". We danced, and danced, and danced until it was the wee hours and it was time to go home.

Then about the time we were realizing that we were more than friends, Jon blew his knee out. He did it dancing in his apartment. And that was the end of dancing together. Even after the doctor declared him better, he was afraid to dance. Afraid that he’d hurt himself again. I couldn’t blame him, but I missed it. Last year he finally got his knee operation, and I hurt my ankle. The doctor thinks I can avoid surgery but physical therapy has been going on for a year now, and though improved, it’s not well. I’ve been cleared for a lot of physical activity but not weight bearing exercise. Which means, stay off the damn ankle.

But Saturday at the Solstice party we were finally able to dance again. First SJ called Jon up, saying, "Come to the front so everyone can see." He did, and he danced for us in his suede kilt and New rock boots. He can really make that kilt swing. I love a man with junk in the trunk who knows how to shake it; always have. He was still being tentive. I know how he danced before we both got hurt, but dancing at all was a wonderful thing. Him dancing by himself, swinging those hips prompted Charles to run up and put a dollar bill in his kilt, which cracked us all up.

Then I just couldn’t resist dancing to SJ Tucker’s music. Jon had been so careful with the first dance that I didn’t want to put him on the spot so I did the junior high girl thing. I got another girl to dance with me. You know what I mean, girls will dance, boys not so much. But I knew Pili would dance with me, and so I scampered across and invited her out of her seat. We danced. It got other people up out of their seats and got some movement on the dance floor, which is what a good hostess is supposed to do. I was careful at first, a lot of hip action and very little foot movement. I danced one song, then sat down and rested. I was good.

But as the songs wore on, it was harder not to dance, especially when I found that I could do it. Jon joined me on the dance floor and we aren’t up to our old level of frenetic activity, but we danced together after many years of not being able to, and it was good. No, it was wonderful, as it always has been. Jon had his shit-stomping New Rocks on, and he began to stomp them in time to the beat of the song, and it carried through the dance floor, and to me. I began to dance, using my feet, and there is just something about a drumming circle that I can’t resist, and we both finally were well enough to join it. The last dance cleared the tables of guests because they all came to dance. Okay, all but two, and they were both sad that they could not dance, but they have injuries that haven’t been fixed yet. Charles needs his knee fixed. He was quite boo-boo faced that he couldn’t join the dancing. The last time we all went out to a club Charles was still well enough to dance and Jon and I were too hurt to join in the music. It’s taken surgery for one and physical therapy for both of us to get us back to this point.

One friend’s husband said, "The looks on your and Jon’s face when you were circling each other at the end was amazing." I took that as high praise, and a very romantic thing to say. My friends have some great husbands.

It was our dancing that first made friends tell us we "liked" each other. It was what first made strangers mistake us for a couple, when we’d just look puzzled at them and say, "We’re just friends." All our friends knew before we did that much heat means there’s fire somewhere. It would take us eight years of friendship to get a clue. Now eight years married, the heat is still there, and there is fire down below, and on the dance floor again. Yea!

Next blog, we’ll talk about the hottest kiss I’ve seen and some real fire.

For those who are surprised that I had never been to a concert, well, there was no money for extras when I was growing up. Music, concerts, that was just not in our budget. The first record I ever bought was after I married the first time. I saved my money for books when I was young. They were my escape and life blood. Music wouldn’t become important to me until after college.

 

We celebrated Summer Solstice in style last night. Today is the official longest day of the year, and happy Father’s Day, too, but since we were still up visiting past midnight we brought the Solstice in right. We had rented a big tent that has been up in the yard for a few days prior to the party. It was part of what the workmen were doing on one side of my office windows last week. Why didn’t I blog about the details last week? Because I was nervous about it all. I mean we’d planned this months ago, but it wasn’t until I saw the size of the tent with it’s wooden floor and lights and fans that it really hit me that this was like a major party. My idea of a party up to this point has been having friends over, and everyone bring something to eat or drink. We talk, we visit, we remember why we’re all friends in the first place. We have movie nights that can include a small group and sometimes there is cooking, but it’s very causual. As the big, white tent went up I realized this wasn’t causual. It would take me a few days of seeing it being erected to realize it wasn’t just the noise the workmen were making that was distracting me from writing. In fact, it wasn’t until yesterday as we all waited for the caterers to arrive with food; the rental company to bring tables and chairs; our landscaper to do just a few more things; and had people there early to help with it all that I began to get nervous in the front of my head. Apparently I’d been nervous in the back of my head for a few days, but yesterday it rose to the front of my consciousness and I had moments of my old social panic. Oh, yeah, I used to be horribly shy when I was about fourteen to fifteen and before, of course, but that was the year that I decided to change. Shyness can actually run in families so some of it is genetic, but a lot of it’s socailization. My grandmother, bless her heart, was shy and uncomfortable in social situations especially if she was unfamiliar with either the people or the protocol invovled. At somewhere around fifteen I decided I could either spend the rest of my life shy and feeling scared most of the time or I could choose to change. I joined speech team and Drama club, the Thespians, and cured my shyness by immersion therepy. It worked, and my theater training has stood me in good stead as I’ve traveled the country meeting and greeting everyone. By the time I got to college I was outwardly cured, but it would actually take Science Fiction Conventions putting me on panels to take that last edge of nerves away. Debbie Millitello good friend and fellow member of my writing group was at the party last night. She and I cemented our friendship years ago by being on a panel together and realizing that it was both our knees making the tablecloth shake. It helped us be braver to know that we were both that scared, and we bonded over it. Last night for the first time in years I was suddenly overwhelmed by that old feeling of not knowing what to do. I live nearly constantly outside any social boundaries I was raised within, and most of the time I wing it just fine, but last night I had a few moments. I wanted to find a piece of tent pole and hold it up and hide, but I was hostess and I couldn’t. Jon was doing his usual social flitting about and being easy and good at it. I thought, I can’t do this, then I had a better thought. Everyone we invited loves me, or at least likes me. That thought helped me calm down and get a handle on the weird blast-from-the-past mood. After that, and some encouraging talks with various friends, it was all good. In fact, it was amazing.

I will blog later about the fact that my ankle and Jon’s knee allowed us to dance for the first time in years. Admittedly, I am hurting this morning, but not too badly and it was well worth it. We had invited musical guests S. J. Tucker, Ginger Doss, and Bekah Kelso; who were fantastic. I knew S. J. was amazing in person, but had never had the pleasure of hearing Ginger or Bekah live. Wow. The harmonies alone were worth coming to the show. I’ll blog in more detail about the show, the music, and the fire-spinning. S. J. and her other half K helped us heat things up and bring Summer Solstice in with fire, music, and dancing. Ye-hah!

 

Finished the rewrite of the novelette’s ending at about 7:30 tonight. Jon was still working on the new database, or server, or something very techie. Friends came over as we’d planned days ago. Dinner was fixed ,again as planned, and we watched "Tank Girl". Like "Hot Fuzz" for us it was one of their favorite movies and when they found out I hadn’t ever seen it, well a movie and dinner night was planned. It was a good night, but due to Jon and I working so late it threw everything late and we are just now ending the evening and going to bed. It was a fun night, but the typing for six and a half hours, admittedly split up by lunch, has taken it’s toll. It was not as sprightly a gathering as it might have been on a normal work day, but our friends understood and love us anyway. Friends that last are the ones that understand that when the muse strikes hard all else takes a back seat, and the muse has neither a working timepiece, nor a sense of ocassion. When she opens the floodgates I just strap in and hang on, and type like a mad thing.