Thanks to everyone who helped Black Hole Sun reach the shelves, and thank you, too, to everyone who helps it leave the shelves.

Click on the link to listen: Black Hole Sun podcast

Because it’s less than two weeks until the launch of Black Hole Sun, I thought it would be fun to revisit some old blog posts.  I’ve been blogging about writing since 2004ish, and it’s interesting–if not embarassing–to read some of the things I wrote before. Today’s blog redux is a post about one of my favorite shows (RIP Captain Phil).

The Discovery Channel has a show I’m sure you’ve seen or heard about, Deadliest Catch. It’s a running series about a fleet of real-life crabbers working the Bering Sea.  The money’s is fantastic, the weather is wretched, and the chances of fishermen dying are pretty high. Discovery Channel has another series, Lobstermen, about a group of lobster fishermen off the coast of Cape Cod.  The weather’s not as bad, the money’s not as good, and the chance of death and dismemberment is nothing compared to fishing the ice pack on the Bering Sea.

Both shows have the same production values, the same camera work, and the same scripting.  There are boats and water and salty, tough guys breaking their backs to make a living.  They show be equally entertaining, but they’re not.  Not even close.  Deadliest Catch. is much, much more engaging.

Because of stakes.

The stakes are much bigger on Deadliest Catch.  More money, bigger fishing pots, bigger waves, more ice, more things to go wrong, more men working on the edge to win big.  You never know when something’s going to go terribly wrong or when one single pot will be worth 25 grand. This is real life, but it’s also a reminder that what engages viewers is the same thing that engages readers.

If you haven’t watched Deadliest Catch, you’re missing out, I tell you what.

I’ve managed to read my marinating manuscript twice since unwrapping it.  As promised, I read without a pen or pencil, and on the first run, I only wrote down comments two times.  Both comments were for new ideas that popped in my head as I read, and I knew I would forget them later.  On the second pass, I made no marks at all, although I was sorely tempted, especially at the end where there were many typos. Here’s what I gleaned:

1. I like the main character.  She’s still the cool, trashy-mouthed girl whose attitude started this whole thing.  Her character arc is solid, and she’s strong enough to carry the story.  She slipped out of character a couple of times, especially at the end, and she was too harsh in one segment.  Easily fixed.
2. I like the bones of the story.  It has a solid three-part structure and a clean, satisfying ending.  The bones need more meat in places, especially at the beginning of the third act and the second part of the second act.
3. The plot is too linear.  See #5 below.
4. I like the secondary characters.  They are interesting and/or likeable.
5. The secondary characters need more of a character arc.  See #3 above.  Both will take some work.
6. The setting is lame.  It adds nothing to the story or to the larger cultural context.  I need a new place, one that will amplify the story’s culture.  This will require a few passes to accomplish.
7. On the whole, the story needs depth and resonance.

Because it’s less than two weeks until the launch of Black Hole Sun, I thought it would be fun to revisit some old blog posts.  I’ve been blogging about writing since 2004ish, and it’s interesting–if not embarassing–to read some of the things I wrote before. Today’s blog redux is a meme from Feb. 2007 that I liked.

Each participant shares five little-known facts about themselves. Those tagged are asked to do the same as well as reiterate this guideline. Each select five folks to be tagged and list their names. (Leave a comment letting them know that you’ve tagged them and that they may see your blog as an example.)

Except, in keeping with a radical movement started by

davidlubar

, I’m including more than five entries, and not all of them are true.

1) In college, I simultaneously managed a cafeteria, two convenience stores, and a sandwich shop.
2) I am now told I have no managerial skills.
3) I hate the beach.
4) I wrote a novel in Econ class in the 11th grade.
5) I named myself after an island a scrotum in a poem by Keats
6) The OC is my favorite TV show.
7) Both of my parents quit school before high school.
8 ) I once watched Willie Gault steal first, second, and third in a pick-up softball game. Reggie White was the umpire.
9) I like cheese.

Because it’s less than two weeks until the launch of Black Hole Sun, I thought it would be fun to revisit some old blog posts.  I’ve been blogging about writing since 2004ish, and it’s interesting–if not embarassing–to read some of the things I wrote before.Today’s blog redux is a post about moldy cheese and character building.

My DW and I just finished cleaning the fridge. It had been accumulating leftovers and almost-empty condiment bottles since before Christmas, and because it was burping out broccoli gases every time we opened the door, it was time. DW took Job A, which included deciding what to keep and what to toss, as well as wiping all bottles of drips and streamers and rethreading all of the cross-threaded lids. I got Job B, which included dumping all off the leftovers into the disposal and hosing down the shelves and drawers. Mine was the fun job. It’s like getting to do science experiments, run machines, and play with my food all at once.

Along the way, I made the following observations:
1. Grinding onions in the disposal is a bad idea.
2. Grinding citrus fruits in the disposal is a good idea that almost compensates for #1.
3. Moldy cheese is indistinguishable from moldy refried beans.
4. It is possible to have five open containers of sour cream in the fridge at once–and not be able to find any of them.
5. When your DW says, “Ugh, this is the foulest thing I’ve ever smelled: Here, smell it”….don’t.

“The sins of his father weigh heavily on Durango, an outcast teen mercenary who’s trying to eke out a living on tomorrow’s gritty, trigger-happy Mars. Fortunately, he is armed with an AI implant, a crew of colorful misfits, and an unshakable sense of humor. David Macinnis Gill rockets readers to new frontiers in this imaginative, action-packed tale.”

- Suzanne Collins, author of The Hunger Games

Because it’s less than two weeks until the launch of Black Hole Sun, I thought it would be fun to revisit some old blog posts.  I’ve been blogging about writing since 2004ish, and it’s interesting–if not embarassing–to read some of the things I wrote before.Today’s blog redux from 2007 is a post about rejections. I still feel the same way.

One of my stories got rejected today. It didn’t upset me. Disappointed, yes. Upset, no. When a writer sends out a query letter, a story, a partial, or full, he is asking the recipient, “Do you think you can sell this?” The answer is either yes or no. Nothing more is necessary.

The question you ask in a query is not, “Do you think I’m a good writer? Or person?” My stories have gotten passes from dear friends, folks who have remained friends, so they clearly think I’m okay on some level. No one has ever canceled a dinner with me because they didn’t buy my work.

Today’s editor was kind and took the time to explain why it was a pass, which was a terrific thing for her to do. Her comments may help me sell the story to the next editor. Or maybe, the next editor will like the very thing this editor disliked. It happens. A lot.

It’s much like selling a house. Total strangers come traipsing through your place, deciding if they like what they see, wondering if they could stand living in this space. Most buyers pass. If you get lucky, more than one buyer will want to make an offer. But it only takes one buyer for a sale.

Really, though, if she’d said, “Thanks, but it’s not for me,” that would’ve been fine, too. I’m trying to sell my work, so this is the equivalent of “no sale.” It is not a negative referendum on my ability. My first thought when I read it was, oh good, now I can send it to someone else. My second thought was, hey, she’s willing to read other stories. Buttah!

By the way, I’m having an open house next week. All editors all welcome. Bring snacks.