Saturday, September 27, 2008
welcome to the next level
I seem to be a little over-vehement with the pencils this morning.—John Steinbeck
Not long after my last post, I was leafing through an old journal of mine, and I realized something: I started revising this novel in January. January. Nine whole months ago, nine months I’ve spent revising the first half of the book. ... Which launched several days of feeling acutely irritable and frustrated with myself. It took only six crazy months to draft the novel in its entirety; why is it taking so long to re-write it?
And if I really think about it, I can come up with enough answers to almost satisfy myself: I’m learning all the time; my characters have become fifty times more dynamic and interesting; and my sister got married, for goodness’ sake, and that will mess with a writing schedule… etc. etc. But I was still left with all those calendar pages devoted to rewrites.
Monday, September 15, 2008
exchanging one malaise for another…
I realized on Friday (with the help of my insightful mother) that if I’m serious about lighting my room on fire, then my real problem isn’t with my novel at all, but with the… file folders. Should this be a huge surprise? No. Not really.
So I set writing aside this weekend and focused every shred of energy on my room. I have sorted, sneezed, sweated, organized, alphabetized. I shoved all my furniture around, trapped myself in a corner for a frustrating half hour, fought off my brown recluse paranoia (sticking a hand behind a dresser or far under a bed just seems to invite malice), encountered my fair share of cobwebs, and otherwise wrestled most of my stuff into its proper place.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
patience was never my strong suit
Cicadas are leaving their shells everywhere--it looks like a fleet of bugs had to make a quick getaway, and left their coats behind. One is caught in a web on our porch, and our neighbor’s fence is studded with them: eerie and ghostlike.
Reminds me that autumn is, after all, a time of shedding. I much prefer orange and yellow seas of leaves, though, to pale beetle-y skins.
You know how much I love fall. But somehow, the change in the air has been making me crazy today. And this past week. (Past month?)
Monday, September 08, 2008
in which i fall in love
Another trip to Borders, another Maple White Mocha (I told you, they’re good!). A quick jaunt through the sales aisle.
A flash of yellow, glint of bronze.
Rub my eyes. Gasp. Peer at sales sticker… not possible. Butterflies in stomach, irrepressible grin, warm cheeks. Running not walking to the cash register. Smug as I walk out the doors.
I have found the Gourmet cookbook (over 1000 pages, over 1000 fantastic, jaw-dropping recipes) for a mere ten dollars.
And I know I’ll just never be the same. I’ll certainly never eat the same… --jl
Saturday, September 06, 2008
let’s break out the cinnamon sticks
You’re the crumble on my apple crumble. -- Gavin Ewart
I like autumn. The drama of it; the golden lion roaring through the back door of the year, shaking its mane of leaves. -- Joanne Harris
Yesterday was most perfect. We’ve had a bout of overcast, rainy weather, which makes me deliriously happy to be alive. Too many sunny days in a row oppresses me, which I understand is strange. But I just can’t help it. I never got over Grand Rapids’ weather, and I miss it in autumn more than ever. So yesterday’s gloom and the constant rain of Thursday were hugely appreciated…
epilogue
Despite my long delay in reporting this, I did send the story, and I did send it on my birthday, hooray! Then we celebrated the story’s departure and my twenty-fourth year with mocha cheesecake (perfection).
um, you really should have been here for the cake.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
yeah… about that.
Less than an hour after posting that blog, I checked the website for my favored literary magazine, just to see if the printed info I had was outdated… Well, it was, because that magazine has since closed shop, however temporarily.
Trust me to forget to check a website until the last minute…
A mistake I am not making again. I’ve spent my afternoon prowling other magazine recommendations, scouring old emails from my Calvin professors for leads. And I found another magazine, one that published a classmate of mine. Other writers sounded familiar--and again, I love the tone, I love the layout, I love the philosophy. The story said it’s okay--in fact, it’s starting to get excited.
Extra bonus? The online submission form. (Read: no cover letter necessary.) --jl
crossing the last t, dotting the final i
My adventures since I wrote last have not been very numerous; but such as they are, they are much at your service. -- Jane Austen
I FOUND IT. Oh, I’m so happy.
Thanks to my mom’s prompting, I remembered a journal that we saw at the Festival of Faith and Writing--it feels like ages ago! But I pulled out the sample copy we picked up then, and read through it. I love the style of this journal, I love the stories, I love their philosophy. And it’s a Christian journal, which means I don’t have to feel sheepish about the surrounding stories, should I get published.
I checked with my story, and it gave me the thumbs up. So now we know where it will be going tomorrow--all that remains is packing its bags for the journey.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
gasping for air (or hope)
Fans of literary fiction, how do you do it?
After several hours of reading brilliant, perfect short stories, I want to lock myself in a closet and never come out.
No doubt the world is as grim, blank, lonely, and despairing as they all say… But goodness. (Hey, that’s a thought. What about goodness?)
Researching literary journals and magazines might not be the most fun ever. Hence my mud-sucking-at-shoes reluctance to send my story out… But, hey, I committed. And it’s going somewhere, come Sunday.
Before then, I have a few more magazines to read through… maybe I’ll meet my match? I look at my story. My story looks at me. We heave to. --jl
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
five days to go?
Progress report:
The story’s as good as it’s going to be. I still think that it’s too simplistic, or too quiet, or too something, but Mom, my sounding board, has insisted that it’s fabulous the way it is. Since that means I don’t have to bother with any more revision, that’s fine with me.
My cover letter so far is: a choice of seven opening sentences. (Or, to be more accurate, the second halves of seven opening sentences. No idea what that first clause should be. Somehow Publish this! sounds a little too strong. Even with a please tacked onto the end.) And then I have another sentence for the next paragraph. Oh, and my closing tag: “Sincerely.” Classic, brief, and it gets the job done. So that’s the letter.
The trickiest bit is determining where the story should go. I’ve narrowed down my list: forty, then to thirteen, and now to four. That’s the main thing I have to work on: studying their styles and deciding which is the best fit for my story.
Important though all this is, it reminds me again and again that I’m not really a literary short story writer at heart. I love my little story, I really do. I know I want to publish it. But sitting at my desk and reading the tiny print in the Writer’s Market guide makes me want to scrape my brain out with a spoon.
Meanwhile, my novel’s characters go outside to play badminton, and my protagonist is spouting brilliant lines by the dozen--lines it takes me hours to think of for her. And now she’s coming up with plenty, all by herself. But if I go nearer to my window to listen (maybe with pad and pen to take notes, since she’s saying really funny stuff, I mean, laugh-til-you-can’t-breathe funny), my short story gets anxious, and drags me back to my desk and my lists, my decisions, my fragmented cover letter, and alllllllllll that tiny print. --jl
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
a few thoughts from under the rock
Weird? Well, probably so. Writers are not like other people. It’s a lie to try to pretend we are.—Heather Sellers
This itch for authorship is worse than the devil and spoils a man for anything else.—E.A. Robinson
Flat country seems to give the sky such a chance.—Dodie Smith
I think that my social skills are deteriorating. Not that they were ever superstrong to begin with… (That’s not really fair. I promise that I do have friends, really great friends: a small group of amazing women who, I am convinced, will change the world.)
No, it’s the let’s-charge-out-into-groups-and-talk-with-everyone-and-be-the-Queen-of-Chit-Chat! attitude that I’m lacking.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
trial by story
I busied myself with a verbal dustpan and brush.—Hugh Laurie
So, that short story? The one I’m sending out on my birthday? I’m a little upset with it.
I fished it out of a file folder last Wednesday, and it skidded to a stop at the edge of my desk. Sat up and began swinging its feet, fixing me with a wicked little gleam in its eye.
It said, So. I’m back.
Monday, August 04, 2008
let’s drink a toast to monday mornings.
So I have this mug that I absolutely adore. I found it at a neat store in St. Louis called English Living. (You’re shocked, of course, that I would even consider going in, anglophile that I am...) There was another mug that said DREAM., but I’ve been dreaming, and there’s something lovely about Monday morning’s coffee in a mug that exhorts you to BEGIN.
Friday, August 01, 2008
the whirlwind that was july
The Future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of sixty minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is.—C.S. Lewis
Okay, so the second half of that month flew by.
In the middle of the month, I spent quality time in St. Louis, hanging out with a former roommate and watching My Fair Lady at the Muny theatre. A fabulous show on a gorgeous night, and it was so great to catch up with Laura! I hadn’t seen her in months, and there were many, many stories to tell.
Then our family went to another wedding at a gorgeous chapel in St. Louis, which was a great chance to get dressed up (I don’t exactly do my hair for a day of writing!) and catch up with family.
Then an impromptu visit to Nashville, followed by the exciting upheaval of my older sister moving back home. She’s coming back to get a second degree at a nearby university--graphic design! I’m so thrilled!! She has a fabulous eye for painting and photography and design, and I can’t wait to see what she does with her art classes. We’re thinking of basically turning this house into a studio--two writers and a graphic designer? Could life be more fun?
And then, this past weekend, my parents and I flew to Minnesota to visit with some of the best relatives ever. We stayed up late talking, got caught up on everyone’s travels (as well as Adrienne’s wedding photos), and had a great time. It felt like an honest-to-goodness vacation, and I loved being north again.
my mom with two gorgeous cousins! hannah and maddie
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
the exquisite joys of peoplewatching
People themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them for ever.—Jane Austen
I am writing this from a coffee shop in Saint Louis, where I’m trying to get a lot of work done. Rewrites are definitely underway for part two of my novel: I’m trying to completely rewrite ninety pages of mediocre first draft, while adding to my original cast and crew. I’ve found a new sub-villain, a buffoon, two terribly arrogant men, and a cynic. Very fabulous characters, and they all have a lot to say.
So. Plenty on my writing plate. And today I need to rewrite two scenes, have to get them done… but the real, living, breathing, tangible, audible people around me are so fascinating that I abandon my imaginary characters, drop my pen, and let their words and actions catch my attention.
It’s amazing what you’ll hear and see when you give yourself over to peoplewatching. Perhaps it’s my profession that makes it endlessly amusing… I’m tempted to cast half the people I see into my novel. Their mannerisms, laughs, turns of phrase… I almost can’t help using them.
About Me
My life at Calvin College
Name:
Jenn Langefeld
Class of 2006
Hometown:
O'Fallon, IL
Major:
English
| October 2008 | ||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| S | M | T | W | T | F | S |
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | |||
| 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 |
| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 |
| 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 |
| 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | |
Monthly Archives
- September 2008
- August 2008
- July 2008
- June 2008
- May 2008
- April 2008
- March 2008
- February 2008
- January 2008
- December 2007
- November 2007
- October 2007
- September 2007
- August 2007
- July 2007
- June 2007
- May 2007
- April 2007
- March 2007
- February 2007
- January 2007
- December 2006
- November 2006
- October 2006
- September 2006
- August 2006
- July 2006
- June 2006
- May 2006
- April 2006
- March 2006
- February 2006
- January 2006
- December 2005
- November 2005
- October 2005
- September 2005
- August 2005
- July 2005
- June 2005
- May 2005
- April 2005
- March 2005
- February 2005
- January 2005
- Complete Archives
- Category Archives
Most recent entries
- welcome to the next level
- exchanging one malaise for another…
- patience was never my strong suit
- in which i fall in love
- let’s break out the cinnamon sticks
- epilogue
- yeah… about that.
- crossing the last t, dotting the final i
- gasping for air (or hope)
- five days to go?
- a few thoughts from under the rock
- trial by story
- let’s drink a toast to monday mornings.
- the whirlwind that was july
- the exquisite joys of peoplewatching