More Than One Way to Part Kenny's Hair

I was going to post about my inaugural spinning class at the Y this morning, how "sprinting" on my stationary bike to bad Top Gun soundtrack music made me feel weirdly nostalgic for H.G. Wells's contraption (I just had to use that graphic again) and how the guy behind me warned me he always felt like he'd just gotten out of prison afterward (and how very Laura Ingalls of me not to get his total butt-sore reference until I stepped off the bike 45 minutes later), but I think it's been far too long since I've mused on writerly things. And I miss it. Like damn.

There are as many different paths to publication as there are mullet hairs on Kenny Loggins's head, so why have I just been entertaining a handful these past few years? True, I've ventured out into Amazon Breakthrough Novel territory, had an agent for a time, published a short, even boldly gone where few have gone before to double final in RWA's prestigious Golden Heart Award, but still I write toward that brass ring. In my mind, I have only dared to reach for it with the time-worn, established, always-been-this-way methods. I'm a safe, bet the odds, follow the rules kind of writer. I hoard my novels, lest I reveal too much. I fear posting my words will push them firmly into the "already published" hot potato camp where agents and editors dare not tread. Funny, but in trying so hard to get them into mass publication/mass distribution hands, my stories have become completely unreachable to those whom I wish to access the most: readers.

Maybe I've been riding the wrong Kenny Loggins hair.

Two recent sites I've visited have broadened my awareness of reader-centric sites where readers are not only the focus, but the decision-making force that drives the engine.

Recently, Dorchester Publishing announced an alliance with TextNovel.com. Unpublished romance writers who deliver serialized stories that capture the most subscriptions and readers are awarded a publishing contract. This feeds (1) the publishing house's desire to find a sure-thing with a built-in audience (2) our culture's increasing fascination with all things delivered in tiny, digestible, digital meals and (3) a writer's craving for feedback from those whose opinions matter most: readers. The model is hugely successful in Japan. Many mainstream novels have entered that country's collective awareness via this route.

Another site that has been around since 2006 is YouWriteOn.com. Sponsored by the Arts Council of England and watched closely by top editors at major publishing houses, writers enter into a bartering feedback system. For each installment a writer posts, she agrees to read and provide feedback on five others. This rating system sifts out the stories highest in a handful of factors such as characterization, plot, setting, etc., and titles earn coveted spots on top ten and bestseller lists. While YouWriteOn offers a self-publication route, their mission is to hook writers up with the industry's top agents and editors. So, while TextNovel is reader driven, YouWriteOn is based on peer evaluation of other writers who (1) self-published or (2) became frustrated with their inert careers.

Do these sites, then, sacrifice a novel to the altar of popularity we so wanted to leave behind in junior high, benefiting the most tech-savvy, socially-networked writers? Or does the cream really rise to the top? Do writers become attention hos like those who final in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel contest and the American Title contest, with nary a mention of, "nice weather we're having," than to follow it with, "vote for me, vote for me!" If we're to believe the promotion and hype on both sites, these models have led several writers to mainstream success with houses such as Putnam, Random House and Orion, an easy decision for these houses because the risk is greatly reduced. Are these viable paths to an author's ultimate goal?

There is careful. And then there are years. And years. I'm between, wondering if the hair is smoother on the other side of the mullet.

Today's earwig: Danger Zone by Kenny Loggins....ah!! (the link so it can become your earwig, too. You're welcome.)

What do you think of these serialized sites for authors to post their work?

A True Hero Could Find A Size 10

What, pray tell, am I doing this week instead of providing extensive, contemplative posts about time theory or musing on the navel-gazing writers are prone to? Shopping for shoes, of course. RWA's National Conference is in two weeks, and as much as I hate to alienate myself among the fairer sex, I confess I dislike shoe shopping intensely. I might as well be seeking out Jimmy Choo Marine Flippers. They don't exist. Cute shoes are an urban myth for tall girls. A rare treasure, buried in the vast DSW ocean.

So while I swim from retail island to retail island, seeking out non-orthopedic soles and bling that doesn't look like a rock unearthed from my garden, enjoy this hump-day diversion.

Buck Tuddrussell (ladies, you can't use that for a hero name, it's mine now) is battling against time, literally. Travel with him through history and help him destroy the hourglasses. Why? Who cares? Time suck has no motivation.



How did you do?

A Guest Vortex 10

First Line Winner

We have a first line winner. Whoot! And it only took a week. Now for the big (or not so big) reveal:

Walking Man will receive a four disc DVD set of Alfred Hitchcock: The Legend Begins. Some of the twenty offerings are shorts from his classic series Alfred Hitchcock Presents. Some are his early full-length thrillers dating back to the late 1920's. It's not much of a secret around here how much I adore Hitchcock. I think writers can learn a tremendous amount from the way his stories unfold, what he chooses to share and not share, with the audience. There are few things better than watching one of his suspense movies, lights-out, during a thunderstorm. Congrats, WM. Email me (la-mitchell@la-mitchell.com) with an address you'd like it sent to. Thanks to everyone for offering up their first lines. They were all amazing.

What are your plans for this weekend?

Good Causes, Britney, and Randy Time-Traveling Buggers

First, a few housekeeping odds and ends...then onto the meat of the post:

Our first line contest still has no winner, so I've cleared the votes and put up the two finalists. Please vote again so someone can be subjected to the awesomely bad torture that is my quirky giveaway. I promise, it'll be a fantastic way to spend an evening if drunk. Or nostalgic. Or both.

Todd Wheeler, faithful Vortex visitor, began his annual summer reading program this week. I've participated for two years now, and his personal quest to support literacy in his area has turned into quite the event. All readers need to do is visit his blog and fill out an ultra-speedy form when they finish reading a novel. For every 25 people who participate, Bear Pond Books will donate a book to the Children's Literacy Foundation. Prizes and surprises are lurking, too, so head over and participate as you're blowing through your to-be-read pile this summer.

Also, because I know you're chomping at the bit for more time-travel-in-the-media news, Britney Spears is in talks to play the lead role in The Yellow Star of Sophia and Eton, a time travel film in which Sophia creates a time machine and heads back to World War II, where she starts a romance. I know, right? Ass chaps and glitter gloss abound. H.G. Wells would be rolling in his grave at the horror.

Or would he?

All kidding aside...well, mostly...H.G. Wells is the meat of today's post.

Surprisingly, I just finished The Time Machine for the first time, and I have a confession to make. I skipped. Like a six year old in pig-tails, I did, over long, self-flagellating passages where Mr. Wells simply liked the sound of his own voice. I know I'm coming from a modern literary perspective and there were amazing attributes to his yarn, but at one time one of his many mistresses must have exclaimed, "Wellsey, your exposition on setting details proves your scientific, detailed genius. More, more!"

Britney would say, "Dear God, if I have to read about the fabric the future race is wearing one more time, I shall have to exterminate myself on my own perfume!"

Actually, what sparked the most interest to me was the short biography of H.G. Wells at the beginning of the Penguin Classics edition. It very politely alludes to his lifelong pursuit of love that was never fully realized. Of course, I wanted to dig deeper. Was it unrequited? Was he unable to balance his prophesies with love's enduring nature? Was inbreeding the one common ground he shared with Britney?

Penguin Classics left out a choice nugget. Apparently, H.G. Wells was the Hugh Heffner of Victorian England, engaging in wild, passionate, scandalous love affairs only to move on to the next woman. His sexual prowess revolved around a stable of women, with his first cousin-wife as matriarch, who would continue to intermingle, care for each other when ill, and support his forward-thinking, globally-acting need to spread his philosophies and seed in his time. So much for romantic notions. I did arrive at one conclusion, though: if my heroine ever returns via time travel to Victorian England, she should run into the hero distinguishable by his glorious bat-wing eyebrows. It worked for H.G. Wells, didn't it?


This is his Hair Club for Men pose. He doesn't look like a randy bugger, does he?

The chic magnet

Today, I'm a Bond Girl

I'm blogging over at the 007 Nobody Writes it Better blog today about favorite reads. Show the awesomeness that is Vortex readers by popping over and saying hi. Though there is no time travel to be found in Bond-landia, I'll drop one juicy tidbit here: Mira Sorvino's favorite book is A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking. A girl after my own heart.

Also, we still have no first line winner, people. Vote. Send others to vote. Change your vote. Someone's words will reign supreme.

Spreading the Love for Blogger, Fathers and Sweet Democracy

May I just take a moment today to exclaim "Sweet, sweet Blogger!" and do a Toyota jump? The time suck that shall heretofore be known as the WordPress Fiasco last night made me appreciate my home sweet home in the blogosphere. Never fear, I scheduled my 007 post for Monday and all is right with the world.

I also want to give a huge, happy shout-out to my Dad. I've mentioned him before here and here and here but my still-favorite way to honor him is the ultimate time travel for Father's Day.

This is Iowa, circa 1940. Isn't he cute? Love you, Dad. Wish we could be together.

Now, let's exercise our democratic freedoms, shall we? Vote in the sidebar for your favorite first line of a story inspired by this photo

before midnight CST Sunday. The winner will receive a DVD collection to be revealed on Monday. It's not really that it's a grand secret, but more than I fear its awesomeness in my mind might translate to yawns and an otherwise less than exuberant voter turnout. But free is free, right? Now you really want to know what it is, don't you?

Vote, vote, vote and if you see your Dad this weekend, remember what a blessing it is to be able to hug him.