Portland's OryCon 31 Writer's Workshop (November 27-29, 2009) opens for manuscript submissions August 1st through September 4th. This is a great opportunity to receive friendly but frank critiques of your work by pros in small group settings.

Manuscript-formatted submissions of SciFi, Fantasy, or Horror short story or novel length excerpts are limited to 7500 words and require a cover letter of 300 words or less. Novel excerpts additionally require a synopsis of 500 words or less.

Electronic submissions are preferred.

Submission fees are $10.00 per submission and writers must have an OryCon membership to attend.

E-mail Carole Cole at ww@orycon.org for fee and hard copy mailing address. Visit OryCon's Writer's Workshop guidelines page for more information and details.

http://orycon.org/orycon31/writers/writers.php

YES! I knew there had to have been a reason for all those months of *cough* background processing on The Car Novel. Yesterday morning, I awoke with how to fix a plot point. Sure, it's a minor plot point now, but it'll come into play nicely about halfway through the book. So glad I didn't completely delete it from the ms. Now it makes sense (at least, to me it does).

Today's a heavy writing day, as all Tuesdays should be IMO, and this morning, I've already received my prompt. Have you ever had seemingly odd or magical things happen to you while working on a piece that you're certain are signs that the story wants to be written, no, must be written? Every time I pick back up working on The Car Novel, spechul car things happen to me.

I'll walk into a bookstore and over the speaker system, a nondescript song will end and some tune from the 50's will start up, common tunes that are blared over the parking lot sound systems of any car show on any weekend across this country. More often than not, it's The Diamonds' Little Darlin'." Love that song.

Or I'll be perusing the car magazine section of a grocery store (can't afford to buy any but have, upon occasion, read more than just a few cover-to-cover), and overhear grown biker-attired adults comment about the lack of auto-oriented fiction (actually happened - twice).

Or I'll run into someone I'd admired from years ago who remembers my car show days and the conversation turns into an invite to come show or judge or just hang out and talk cars. To look at me, not many would believe I'd want to do that, but I do, often.

This morning, a custom-painted truck I've seen for years at a many shows around the area drove down our street and back up again out of the development. We live in an unique enough area in our development to be able to watch the comings and goings in and out of the neighborhood. This truck didn't belong here, has never been here as far as I know, but there it was regardless, all shiny with flames and pinstripe (be still, my pounding heart!), slammed close to the ground, taunting me to keep writing and get The Car Novel done.

What kind of slacker idiot would I have to be to deny the car world that?

Vroom, Vroom!

I'm happy to say heavy editing/rewriting through to Chapter Seven on The Car Novel has taken place. Sadly and simultaneously, I seemed to have lost the ability to distinguish between past and present perfect tenses so yet another edit will need to occur before all is said and done. Can't have everything, I guess.

In addition, my husband's job has gone from Level 3: Worrisome to Level 4: Interesting with an orange OMG! exclamation point over the weekend. Personal Financial Threat Advisory is elevated. The screeching sound you may hear in the not-so-far-off distance is the sound of heavily applied brakes. Looks like we'll be staying close to home for the next year or so with the exception of attending OryCon this November. Beyond that is anyone's guess.

So close. I felt we were so close to squeaking through all this nearly unscathed.

Orange Glo and OxiClean Pitchman Billy Mays has died. Anyone keeping count?

But in other news, more edits and rewrites happening today on The Car Novel. I've got yet another reason to finish this novel and Billy Mays has nothing to do with it.

Wow. Ms. Fawcett and Mr. Jackson both in the same day. Freakish.

431 words so far plus edit, edit, edit. I'm still thinking about Chapter five and a half but I can't let that necessary writing stop the forward motion through the editing of Chapters 6-8. More car polishing will, no doubt, occur sometime tomorrow.

Tonight, Powell's Cedar Hills. Tomorrow evening, INK.

Early Saturday morning, My car and I will be at a particular weigh station along highway 26 toward Mt. Hood helping out with a big car club event. My advance apologies to the lovely nearby town will that will be overrun with feisty older gentlemen and their wives driving colorful Corvettes between the hours of 8 and 10 a.m. Don't blame me. I didn't set up this thing up.

Finally, because I needed a break, here's a shot of my work space today. Outside, the fountain is splashing, the birds are singing, the tomatoes growing at long last. If it gets any prettier out there, I'm gonna have to close the curtains.

Bang, Crash, Bang!

After a year and a half of practice, five to nine hours a day, seven days a week, none of the next door Renter family's three kids have mastered the skateboard Ollie. Doesn't prevent them from trying and with school now out, Bang! Crash! Bang! is the tune I hear all day long. Even behind tightly shut doors and windows. Obviously, I need to start blaring disco music.

The scary thing is, constant skateboard noise is the least of our neighborhood's problems with this family.

But moving on, I didn't feel like writing at all today (little wonder with all the noise - I said, move on, Cole.). I might have been too wrapped up in getting things ready for OryCon's Writer's Workshop. And then the thought of making homemade pesto for dinner (basil's always a treat!). And tomorrow evening, going to Powell's Cedar Hills location for P.R. Frost's Faery Moon book signing.

All good things. But really, I think I'm background processing Chapter five and a half I feel I need to cough up before I can move ahead on The Car Novel. Hey, I know! I'll use an old trick that always got me to thinking. Don't know why I didn't think of it sooner. My car needs another coat of swirl remover and polish. Must be the grape Kool-Aid smell of the stuff that fires up the ol' brain cells.

Live from Portland's Fat Straw. The Car Novel, Chapter five, the SOB chapter. Literally. Revealing more Protagonist personality, upping conflict, fleshing minor characters and day-to-day life at the shop. Trying not to listen to Fat Straw life (which is remarkably quieter than Fireside was plus extra bonus points for having better music).

Trying not to worry about anything that may or may not be going on outside on the side street. Can't be much worse than hitting that bouncing soda can on the freeway at 70, right? Okay, don't think, don't worry. It'll all be fine. Get back to work.

Chapter six. Still on Protagonist. Probably ought to switch to Antagonist view, particularly since Chapter five was long. Need to watch that Antagonist. That guy will take this novel over and can run like the wind. This isn't his story alone. Knock it off, Floyd.

Obviously, I need a Chapter five and a half if I'm going to break this up. Gonna have to think about this. Naturally, I didn't bring my twenty-pound stack of notes. Okay fine. Make a notation. Move on. Chapters six, seven, and eight are waiting.

Thought I was going into a bit of a relapse with the cold late yesterday. Sinuses clogged up so tight, I had to walk around with my mouth hanging open just to breathe. I didn't eat any dairy or anything else that should have caused my nose to go off again but it sure felt as though someone had shoved a bowling ball up there. ::shifts eyes:: A fifteen-pound ball, if you must know.

After a rip-roarin', nose-honkin' good time this morning, I feel back on the road to recovery. Enough of this. I'm bored to tears with it.

Spent an hour talking with The Husband about writing, his writing specifically like I'm wont to do more often than not, and we've come to the conclusion that he's a 'fits and starts' kind of writer. Therefore, me being on his case about not writing every day, hell, let's call it what it was, not jotting down a thought, an idea, a single sentence or simple, solitary word every day, day in and day out, something I thought we both once felt was the necessary daily activity toward becoming a writer, is hurting his desire to write more than helping.

Huh. Should have anticipated that revelation coming.

I probably ought to let him live his own writing life and stick to my own. A little tough to do since we're in a writing group together. But I'll learn and will continue to learn.

Cruising into The Car Novel this afternoon...just as soon as the roasted cauliflower comes out of the oven. Can't smell it but my stomach knows it's past lunch time.

My allergies turned out to be a cold in disguise but I'm coming out the backside of it (along with other things - more Eww!). I'm absolutely not going anywhere this coming weekend in hopes of giving my asthma-lovin' lungs a rest. All this coughing can stop any.time.now.

Before I came down with pre-summer's worst cold, I pecked some more on the UL story and rewrote/edited the first four chapters of The Car Novel. Love Chapter Four, otherwise known in small circles as 'The Fingers' Chapter. Love, love, love it. While I haven't written any fiction since last week (hey, my head was muddled), I've ripped through an entire foot of books on that four-foot stack I'd been meaning to read someday.

Also ripped through an entire bottle of Robitussin DM and still the coughing continues.

Tomorrow, I'm back on The Car Novel, from bed if need be, to dive into the meat of the matter. *rubs hands together*

The allergies almost wiped me out. Almost. I slept with tissue nose plugs to keep my flowing sinuses from saturating everything. I had to. I know, gross, ew, and all that. Sorry.

Today, I reread what I wrote yesterday and after fixing a muddled paragraph, proclaimed it good. Un-boxed the car novel and pretty much rewrote the first two chapters. But here's the thing: They turned out almost exactly like they were the first time around.

Whatever. I'm going with it.

The first chapter is slow, in my opinion, but gets the ball rolling. Chapter 2 rips right along just fine. I'd simply swap the two around but here's the other thing: My antagonist insists it's HIS novel. But it's not. If I give it to him, he's going to run away with it and not in a good way. He doesn't play well with others. He has to learn to share.

Then I worked on something goofy for kenscholes ARC contest and later, had a fresh cherry and pomegranate cosmopolitan. Take that, you nasty allergies.

Woke up with raging sinus issues necessitating a non-dairy consumption day. Working between lots of tissue use. 115 words. 341 anti-words. Still don't know where the UL story is going but I'm not worried. The car novel looms nearby in a plain, brown manuscript box taunting me to give the UL story up and dive back into it's slick, shiny, carnauba wax-smelling goodness and finish the damned thing already!

Soon, my precious. Soon.

Vrooom, vrooom.

A weepy day inside and out.
Inside for things lost and for a friend.
Outside, for things squandered and for a friend.
The clouds weep today and rains whisper their names.
Tomorrow I become a warrior and seek honor.

Yesterday's JayCon IX in Portland was just the shot in the arm I needed, the proverbial fire under my butt to get me thinking of the summer ahead and what I will accomplish by fall. So many talented, genuinely nice people were at Flying Pie Pizza helping Jay celebrate his (true) birthday. A glowing Ken and radiant Jen, a pair of Davids, the always enjoyable, as well as admirable Lizzy and Phil and M.K. and Bob, all of whom I could listen to for hours on end, along with the hilarious Bellingham and Seattle-area bunch. Oh, and Paul too. Good to see Shannon and Patrick and Lucky Labrats Theresa, Grant, John, the other one of two Davids, and good friend Kami...and...and...and even more guests including the birthday boy himself, and by the time I got home, my sides were aching from laughing so much. A great time.

So then I promptly bored the husband to tears with everything about the day, like I do.

Just pitted ten pounds of fresh cherries slated for the freezer. Now that laundry is done and Powell's upcoming local author events have been checked and noted (yippee for Jay, Camille, and P.R. Frost!), next up is to make a pitcher of nectarine daiquiris and get back to that deeply enjoyable C.F. Bentley book, "Harmony." I'm enthralled!

Writing has fallen off in the wake of continued financial woes (when haven't I experienced any of that, I ask myself daily) and relationship confusion (again, I ask myself the same question).

But my reading continues strong and that pile, yeah, that four-foot high pile of books is shrinking. Oh yeah, whose yer reading daddy, er, mommy?

Working toward wrapping up a bit of necessary emailery this week before diving back into a bit of Wheatland Press, more LeGuin, a little C.F. Bentley, a lot of Follett and Oates, and a whole slew of Margaret George.

Yes, I'm still reading. Yes, I'm writing, something new actually, something I'm terribly excited about. Between my muse's idea of going to a reward system for writing (something I've never believed in previously) and keeping James Van Pelt's 200 words a day or more advice forefront in my mind, things are going swimmingly well.

After a long, long stretch of life sucking at my very soul, I guess I had forgotten how much fun writing can be.

More sunshine, more dry-ness today and that meant I had to take my car out for a spin in lieu of reading. After all, its spent the last half year covered up in the garage. As I turned out onto the main drag, my husband teasingly called my car a predator.

"This little ol' thing? No way! It'll be seven years old next week. That's ancient by today's car standards."

He laughed. "It's low, it's black, and I see the frightened looks on other drivers faces. Only the stupid would mess with you."

Okay, maybe. I do love it when I'm behind that wheel and I don't feel the need to prove a thing. Bet the cops like that attitude adjustment in me too.

Back home, I found the entire back half covered with yellow pollen. Geeze, I'm glad I drive with the windows rolled up. Can't handle another sneezing day like yesterday.

I pried my nose out of a pile of reading long enough to notice that this weekend is expected to be dry and sunny. Of course, this had to be the weekend I was supposed to be at half a dozen different places at once but then my allergies took charge and made sure I didn't get to go to any of them. That was probably a sign that I should have stayed in bed reading. But I didn't. I couldn't.

First up was to plant those tomatoes. Of course, I had to cover them by day's end just in case the night cooled too much. Then there was long-forgotten hanging basket to dump and recreate which finally freed up much-needed space in the garage by way of using up a year-old bag of potting soil. My husband will be thrilled over that just as soon as he notices.

And then came lots of sitting in the sunshine. Thin, high clouds had covered most of the blue by then and the temps didn't get near the high we were promised but it was nice to bundle up and sit outside. For a while anyway.

And then the sneezing came back and I had to call it a day. Celebrating little victories and all that. Back to reading.

No! It can't have already been a week since I went to Norwescon. This year's was absolutely the most fun ever and it can't be days over already!

All right, knock off the whining, Cole.

The panels, the workshops, BarCon with friends, the readings, the costumes, new friends, dancing, parties, libations, oh my! More fun than I could shake a stick at - that would be a long, heavily varnished stick with a LED-lit crystal securely bound on top of it if you're wondering.

Lots of notes were taken, mostly writerly things, some Con improvement things, a few Self improvement things including (and in no particular order):

1. Don't rely completely upon memory - jot down all story ideas that come to mind, not just some, thinking, "Well, of course, I'll remember that!"
2. Hang out with friends more often, both old and new.
3. Stop going all fan-girl over those pros, Cole. You know who all I'm talking about.
3. Another pro tip: Don't drink Absinthe (for the very first time ever) before conversing with pros. Watch out for delayed reaction. I swear this stuff was like nothing, at first. HA! I'm an idiot.
4. Maintain poker face the next time I consume a four-year old, Everclear-soaked cherry. Lizzy Shannon did it right.
5. Keep dancing, dancing, dancing.

Now it's time to get back to work. I didn't think I went shopping for a new muse at Norwescon but one found me. Now I understand what Ken was saying about not waiting around for a muse to drop ideas into my lap. How silly I was. It's a working relationship and I think this one may be a keeper. Thanks Ken and thanks to everyone attending Norwescon.

Bag is packed, car windows are clean, tank is filled. In a couple of hours, Kami and I will be Norwescon bound. We're sharing a room with MK Hobson this weekend, supposedly in a mountain view room. At least, that's what I requested. Don't really think we'll see THE mountain though.

Looking forward to the con, the author readings, the dances, the parties... anyone bringing Peeps?

NOT looking forward to overcrowded elevators stuffed with people wearing wings. Just a friendly warning: Don't intentionally flutter those things in my face please. Don't demand a repeat of last year's incident.