Beware of Fire Wombats

Worldcon 2025 is a few weeks in the rear view mirror, which means I’m already forgetting which notes I took from the panels (and one workshop). I’ve managed to re-read Ammonite, written by Nicole Griffith way before she ever dreamed of becoming a SFWA Grand Master. (She was as gracious as I remember when when she signed my much-used copy.)

I brought back books, of course, including a birthday present to myself, a two-volume collection of Peter S. Beagle‘s short fiction. (My writing coach suggested it would be good for me to read — as if I needed an excuse. He’s awesome in that quiet way we should also aspire to.)

All those new words have to contend with the existing inhabitants of Mount TBR, plus all the magazines/online pubs that I most definitely will get to soon.

It’s a fool’s errand. Barring a sudden retirement and/or lottery win, I will struggle. However, I am approaching the Sisyphean path with a more critical eye. The stories are to be enjoyed as a reader and pondered as a writer. The trick, as always, is to hold oneself open to inspiration without self-criticism. Keep your eyes on your own paper, etc.

It’s also important to recognize when something isn’t a good fit. I’m getting better at setting things aside for later, or donating them outright without feeling I have to finish it first. No one will know unless you tell them.

For bonus points, I’m going to sift through all these new words and ideas and questions and pull out some nuggets that I can put into my revisions. They need some love.

I use the analog of mining when it comes to writing: digging deep and often, looking for those usable word nuggets. But sometimes you play out a particular idea seam and have to move to another spot. Set up camp and unpack the shovels. Et cetera.

A different analogy has taken hold this year: farming, specifically the idea of letting your fields like fallow. If you sow and reap the same crop constantly without replenishing the soil’s nutrients, you’ll eventually wear the fields. You have to pour in fertilizer and work harder for smaller yields. And those wheat stalks look pretty dismal.

I’ve been trying to maintain a schedule of new fiction every month and revising older fiction, plus the usual business of submitting and tracking submissions. The words are still there, but not the satisfaction (or those tasty, tasty sales).  I find myself struggling with drafts and then tossing them into the bin because they looked… wrong.

So after much contemplation and (virtual beating of my forehead against the keyboard), I’ve come to the strikingly obvious conclusion that I need to cut back. Shift the crops from drafting to revising, or — wait for it — taking care of the writer brain. Reading more. Watching some lectures. Sitting on the meditation cushion as often as needed, which is a lot these days. (Gestures vaguely to the oligarchy madness and general destruction.)

Fallow fields by Daniel Joder Photography

Exercising. Napping. Napping is good, too.

I will still be hosting my writing hangouts because they’re important. If the words don’t come, then at least I’ve had the company of my fellow humans.

Thanks for visiting.

I sold another story this week, “Never Leave the House Without Your Purse,” to Sudden Fictions. (TW for domestic violence) It should drop on December 28, 2024, making it my seventh appearance on the podcast this year. Yowza!

That, combined with the much-much-delayed extension of my DayJob contract, might be seen as a bona fide Holiday Miracle. So without further ado, I present my Year in the Word Mines, 2024 edition. (And no, I don’t track my daily/weekly/monthly word count. Such things feed my Anxiety Weasels.)

Sales: 9 new and 2 reprints

Stories completed: 18 (okay, one was a Drabble contest, but still)

Submissions: 75

Next up, the Eligibility Post.