Blog

unexpected asskickings

Posted on April 27, 2012 by Alberto

Those of you who write have probably had this experience: you read a published story or novel and it makes you go, “I can write better than that.”

And if you’re honest with yourself about your talent and skill, it’s true. You can.

And if you’re me, you have to admit that whatever novel it is that you’ve just read has one shining virtue that yours doesn’t: it’s done.

And that, gentles, is something that can no longer stand.

I’ve had The First Hour of Night on the shelf since I got back from Viable Paradise XII. I’ve worked on it in little bits here and there since then, but to be honest, it’s been dead in the water. I excerpted the first thirty pages as my submission piece for VP, and for that submission I had to also include a synopsis of the rest of the novel. Which meant that I had to figure out how the story ended before I wrote it. This, for me, is not really a good thing. I write by the headlight method–imagine, if you would, that writing a story is like driving a car at night: you can only see so far ahead of you, but if you’re paying attention, that’s enough to get you home. I freely admit that this is probably the least efficient and messiest way to write, but frankly, it’s the way I know how, and the way that I know works for me. So outlining and synopsizing the novel pretty much took all the joy out of it for me: I mean, why bother finishing it if I already knew how it turned out?

And then last week, I read Ken Scholes’ Lamentation. Now, it’s not a bad first novel. It’s a bit hackneyed in places and the pacing is off, but it largely works. That said, I got thrown out of the story on the third paragraph of the first chapter and had to give it a moment before coming back to it. Oh, and why the fuck do medievaloid characters use the word “okay” in their frigging speech? Yes, I get that the author may be in fact implying that the world he’s showing us is our own in the far, far post-apocalypse-magic-is-sufficiently-advanced-science future, but really–”okay”? Also, what’s with giving me all the details about everyone’s meals? I mean, if it’s being used to advance the plot, yes, give it to me, and god knows I love me some food porn, but yeesh, man. Yeesh!

All this to say: Lamentation jumpstarted my interest in The First Hour of Night. I want to get it done. Okay, sure I know how it goes, but in the doing, it might surprise me. God knows, that always happens when I write a story–I think it’s going one way, doing this thing, and then it turns out that it’s actually doing this other thing, too, and oh, look, isn’t that shiny right over there?

So, thanks, Ken Scholes. I greatly appreciate the kick in the ass.

Now, back to the novel.

Posted in from blog, the writing life | 1 Comment

keeping up with the Awesomes

Posted on March 30, 2012 by Alberto

As the first part of an ongoing series, I’d like to tell you about what friends of mine are doing in their creative work.

  • Sarah Young is the featured soloist (on oboe) with the Rhode Island Philharmonic Community Orchestra’s upcoming concert. If you’ll be in Providence this Sunday, the concert will be a lovely time.
  • Halsted M. Bernard has a flash story published at Bewildering Stories: The Kettle and I.
  • VP-mate Claire Humphrey has a story at Strange Horizons that’s a wonderfully angsty take on the Tam Lin tale, “Nightfall in the Scent Garden.”
  • Elizabeth Bear’s new novel, Range of Ghosts, is out. I’m really looking forward to reading it.
  • Liz Argall’s story, “The Rugged Track,” has been published as a podcast at Podcastle. Take a listen.
  • Candra Gill is now selling her gorgeous handmade art-craft journals.
  • Clarion West-mate S. L. Gilbow has a story at Lightspeed, “Alarms.”

If you have something you’d like to share, let me know.

Posted in keeping up w/the Awesomes | Leave a comment

several things, catching up

Posted on March 28, 2012 by Alberto

I guess the simplest thing to do is to just start and go from there.

* I’m writing this from California’s Central Valley. I’m here on spring break, visiting my family. I spent a couple of days up in San Francisco seeing friends. The weather is fairly beautiful, with so much blue sky and clouds like strands of sugar floss and meringues, and a warm breeze.

* This is unlike Portland, which is cold, and grey, and wet, where I had learned to get along without an umbrella mostly because I’ve got hats and wool coats and no wish to stick out like a tourist.

* I have an Oregon driver’s license now (the photo on which everyone says looks unrecognizable), and Oregon plates on my car. I’m registered to vote in Oregon, too. I’m taking this transplant thing seriously, yo.

* Despite the weather, which honestly I don’t mind nearly as much as the above might indicate–in my head, I’m telling myself it’s a wet winter, which to my growing-up-during-the-drought-years self is a good thing–I’m really liking Portland. It’ll do quite nicely for the next few years.

* Baring something majorly unforeseen, although I’m starting to love Portland, I do not see myself settling down there. If I stay in the PNW, it’s Seattle that’s got my number. Although truth to tell, I want to travel some, and live in NYC for a bit, and maybe Scotland. But who knows? I might just come back to California.

* A date (and more on that in a bit) said something about “smug Californians” as we were discussing our backgrounds (native Portlander on her part). I laughed for a good minute straight, at least, because it’s true and I had never thought about it. Native Californians are smug. It’s a crazy place, and there are so many things wrong with it, but it’s still amazing, and native Californians just sort of absorb that sense from the get-go. When I mentioned this exchange to some friends this weekend over drinks in SF, the two other native Californians laughed with the same delighted chagrin and indulgent recognition that I had. It was a smug laughter, yeah, and I laughed about it, too.

* I’m sure New Yorkers get it, too.

* School is going very well, although not quite as well as I’d like. I’m likely to take my first-term Human Anatomy and Physiology class over again at some point before I apply to nursing programs so I can get an A in it (I got a B). The prof assured me that a B in the class wouldn’t hinder me (given the strength of the rest of my prospects), but I sort of want to have that A, you know? Also, why the fuck was that class worth only 4 units? Good lord, it really should have been 5. There was more work than in Microbiology, which was 5 (and in which I got an A, thanks).

* I’m looking forward to next term, although I’m probably going to tweak my classes in the next couple of days. I need to look at the schedule again.

* I’m still looking at making WisCon happen for me this year. What I need to do is file my taxes; if there’s a sizable-enough return coming, then screw it–I’ll go. Probably. I’ll file when I get back to Portland. I figure I’ve got a couple of weeks before I really need to either buy my tickets or learn to accept that I’m not going.

* I always thought that my dating life would pick up as soon as I left the Bay Area (and wasn’t in the Central Valley). Indeed, that does seem to be the case. Within a couple of weeks of moving to Portland, a few people contacted me online (OkCupid, Chemistry, etc.), actually initiating a conversation and then actually asking me out on a date. Holy what the fuck, Batman.

* So I’ve been going out on dates. Which makes me realize, I am rusty at dating women. In San Francisco, I tended to mostly date men–and mostly “date” men, at that. Dating women is a different game than dating men in a variety of ways that have everything to do with expectations and socialization, and I’ve been finding the experience rather sweet… and a bit confusing. Mostly, it’s just what’s in my head shifting, is all.

* What with all the settling in, school, and general adapting, I haven’t gotten nearly as much writing done as I’d like. That said, I did write my first non-sucktastic poem, which I think has actually got legs. Mind, it needs major reworking, but I think it’s got potential. I need to continue reworking the stories I wrote at Clarion West, and I’ve got a couple-three new short stories that are clamoring at me. Including my first horror story.

* I owe my Clarionmates so many crits. It feels too me like I haven’t had the energy/ability to give them the kind of critique that I’d given them while we were at Clarion West, so I have been just avoiding it altogether. Which is ridiculous. But the whole dealing with my new life has been pretty damn consuming, so I can justify that I’ve needed a lot of slack.

* I need to make more friends in Portland. I’ve been busy with the whole setting up house thing that I’ve been neglecting the friends-making thing. I mean, school is great for that, and there are several people who are proto-friends, I’d say. I just have to get off my butt and pursue that a bit more. Also, more random socializing would be good. People are friendly enough in Portland that you can strike up a conversation most anywhere, and I’d like to think my self-perceptions on my charm are accurate.

* I should find a job at some point in the next few months. I’m planning on coming back to California for a few weeks (maybe a month) this summer. Getting an income after that would be good. Really good. Perhaps even before. We’ll see. Honestly, I’d be okay with tending bar, or working at Powell’s, or the like. That would suit me just fine at this point.

* Friends have been coming to visit me, and I really like that. If I could keep a stream of people visiting with someone coming up every month or two–that would be grand. If you feel like visiting me in Portland, let me know.

* I’ll be heading back up to Portland in a couple of days or so. The all-in-one-shot drive isn’t as bad as I’d feared it was. With company, it would be really pleasant, actually, especially if we traded driving. I’m doing a fair amount of traveling: down to California and back to Portland, then up to Washington for Norwescon the next weekend, and then Vancouver with J. It’s early in the quarter, so I’m hoping that midterms won’t be an issue.

* I’ve realized that I need to pay more attention to–and in general find out about–calls for submissions. There have been a few that I’ve really regretted missing, because I’ve either had a piece that could work, or could write a piece… if only I’d known about it sooner. If any of you have any cool news about calls, please share.

* Although it’s in my nature to keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, I’m actually pretty happy at the moment. (And yes, that’s always subject to change.) Cheers, though.

Posted in from blog | 1 Comment

on turning 35

Posted on February 1, 2012 by Alberto

I turned 35 today.

I am extraordinarily okay with that.

That’s good, as there’s really not much I could constructively do about it, else.

The thing that’s different about this birthday versus my previous ones is that I’m living in a new city far away from most of my people. Granted, I spent my thirtieth birthday by myself in Paris, but good lord, that was Paris–different rules apply.

Today, I had classes and a quiz and I’m coming off of midterms. I’ve been running around, and I’m living with a ton of boxes half unpacked. My place is a disaster (coming together slowly). I meant to rally my friends and acquaintances here in Portland to go out for my traditional Japanese dinner, but with everything going on, that just didn’t happen. But I’m happy.

My friend, Q., has come to visit for a few days, which is a delightful gift–and we got ourselves out for that Japanese food I’m so fond of for my birthday.

So it’s a quiet birthday, and I’m feeling contemplative and good.

On the whole, I’m on course. I made a plan, and I’m following it. I still find that amazing–I sometimes have to stop and realize that this insanity is entirely of my own making, and that it’s a good thing.

Basically, it’s “Holy crap, Batman, it’s my life!” pretty much all the time right now. Things will settle soon, I hope.

Posted in from blog, life: flux | 1 Comment

writing workshops and me… and you

Posted on January 31, 2012 by Alberto

As you probably know, I’m a graduate of two speculative fiction writing workshops. I attended Viable Paradise in 2008 (Go XIIers!) and Clarion West in 2011 (Let’s do this!).

Both were incredible and pivotal experiences–the kind that do indeed allow one to shift directions in life.

VP gave me a sense of community and took me and my work seriously, with writers whose work I respected acknowledging me as a colleague (a junior one, to be sure, but a real one). That was amazing. It also opened up the world of SF&F writers and fans to me, providing me with an open door to the community, and gave me a few lasting friendships. VP gave me a great kick forward, and provided a lot of tools in one intense week.

Clarion West took that kind of experience, broadened and deepened it in scope and mastery. The six weeks at Clarion West allows for such a full and rich immersion, and one gets tossed (very gently tossed, all told, and they strap water-wings on you first… although the water gets choppy right quick) into a life of writing and reading and critiquing and breathing and dreaming story. You get to not only meet, but be feted by Seattle’s (and the greater Pacific Northwest’s) large and highly talented writing community, who are genuinely enthused about what you’re doing. Clarion West took me from a writer who took forever to write a story to one who could, in fact, write one–a good one, even–in less than a week. (Often, because I am King of the Procrastinators (if ever we get around to having the election), in less than a couple-three days.) I learned that I am a writer, and that I have the talent and the skills to do something with it, and by god, I had proof at the end of the six weeks. And more: I had seventeen colleagues and friends, all amazingly gifted, who had just gone through this amazing experience, too.

I worked hard at Viable Paradise, and even harder (and for a lot longer, yeesh) at Clarion West. Both were extraordinary opportunities to take a break from my life as it was and dedicate myself solely to writing. They were a blessing, and they completely changed me.

Workshops aren’t for everyone–for a variety of reasons. The time away, the pressures of the process, the ridiculous quantity of alcohol consumed… but I found them to be a marvelous way to gain perspective, and frankly, the best vacations (from the quotidian) I’ve ever had.

If you think that you might want to apply to Viable Paradise or to apply to Clarion West (or to Clarion or Odyssey), I strongly encourage you to do it. If time away is a problem, well, VP is a week, and the Clarions (and Odyssey) might be six, but they go by really fast. If money is an issue, there are scholarships and aid available. If the workshop technique doesn’t appeal, then that’s a major thing to consider, but if you can give and receive open, constructive, and honest–at times, brutally honest–critique, then you can probably handle it.

Workshops are a lot of work. At VP, you’ll be writing a new story while you’re there and reading and critiquing several of your colleague’s. At the Clarions, you’ll be reading 17 each week, and writing a new one, too. You’ll have classes and lectures, and guest speakers, too. It’s a lot. But it’s amazing.

These workshops are two of the best things I’ve ever done. Not only the experience of them, but the fact that I got stories from them–real stories that I’m proud of, and that one day could very well be published (Look, it’s happened: “Recognizing Gabe: un cuento de hadas” was published in Strange Horizons a couple of weeks ago.).

The instructors are incredible and highly-respected writers and editors at the top of their fields. For this year’s workshop, VP has Elizabeth Bear, Steven Brust, Debra Doyle, Steven Gould, James D. Macdonald, Patrick and Teresa Nielsen Hayden, and Sherwood Smith, all of whom you’ll have as teachers the entire week. Clarion West has Mary Rosenblum, Hiromi Goto, George R.R. Martin, Connie Willis, Kelly Link and Gavin Grant, and Chuck Palahniuk, each teaching their respective weeks.

This year, Clarion has Jeffrey Ford, Marjorie Liu, Ted Chiang, Walter Jon Williams, Holly Black, and Cassandra Clare. Odyssey, which has a different structure, has editor Jeanne Cavelos as the primary instructor, Paul Park, Elaine Isaak, Barbara Ashford, Craig Shaw Gardner and top agent Jennifer Jackson as guest lecturers, and Jeanne Kalogridis as the writer-in-residence.

All in all, those are amazing line-ups. So if you’re thinking of doing it… go for it!

Posted in the writing life | Tagged | Leave a comment

for the record, this poetry stuff is HARD

Posted on January 20, 2012 by Alberto

So, I’ve got a story that wants to be told as a poem.*

Now, I’m a bad poet. We’ve established this over the years. No matter, the story still wants to be told as a poem.

*muttering*

All right then, I’m writing the story as a poem. It’s difficult. Not just because I have to figure out how the story goes–that’s usually the case–but because I’m stripping all the words away that I can, I’m articulating a skeleton. No, more: this is meant to be complete and alive in itself, not simply the armature. Stripping away might be the wrong way for me to look at it.

Maybe I should consider it an exercise in elegance.

Argh.

And never mind that it’s free verse. It might be free, but it ain’t cheap.

I feel like pretentiousness is almost unavoidable, and that cliché is waiting for me like a mugger with a cosh.

If I could write this story as prose, I would. But it’s a singular voice, and she wants her story told in verse.

This story is part of my ongoing engagement with fairy tales, which I only recently realized that I have. (Okay, sometimes I’m a little oblivious.) It’s also part of my ongoing engagement with trans themes and characters. (That part was obvious from the moment the Queen decided to speak up.)

Here’s hoping it all turns out right.

*Personally, I blame [info]tithenai and Paul Park and [info]popelizbet.

Posted in from blog, the writing life | Tagged | Leave a comment

wonder, and adapting to a winter clime

Posted on January 18, 2012 by Alberto

It’s snowing and the sky is luminous.

The night air is cold, but bearable, and soft to breathe. It’s not the now-rare sharpness of my childhood crisp winter mornings in the Valley. No, this snowy air is gentle.

This is the first time I’ve lived in place where snow isn’t a once-maybe-twice-in-a-decade occurrence. Sure, it’s not the Midwest, much less Canada, but for my central California-bred sensibilities, it’s a wonder nonetheless.

It’s snowing and the sky is luminous.

I took the bus to get to school yesterday, although I probably could have taken my car. It was snow showers in the morning, you see, and I’ve never driven in snow. By the time class was over, it was just rain. Getting home took ages, as I navigated TriMet.

But come the morning… oh, I won’t drive. There’s real snow out, and there are hills between me and campus. I’ll take another bus, and get there all the same. Let someone else worry about traction.

It’s snowing and the sky is luminous.

I’ve got blankets and sweaters, and good boots to keep me dry. I’ve scarves, and gloves, and even earmuffs, somewhere. Two wool coats, and a mackintosh I bought in New York. It’s not really that much colder than back home, just wetter. I’m okay with walking around with an umbrella. At some point, I’ll invest in Gore-tex.

For now, it’s still a pleasure to come in from the cold and be warm.

Walking along Portland’s streets, I realize how much a Californian, a San Franciscan, I am. The other day, I passed in front of a woman as I turned a corner and sped up. I cleared her by a good three feet or more. By my lights (that is, as someone used to living in a dense city), it was the polite thing to do: hurry up and get out the way–we’ve both got places to be and no time for acknowledgments if we don’t get in one another’s ways. But she grumbled, loudly, and so I slowed down, smiled, and exerted some charm. She was happy after that.

This morning as I waited for the bus, a woman at the stop started a conversation with me. It was momentarily startling, but nice. I’m always surprised when people chat in lines. Pleasantly, but surprised.

It makes me empathize with New Yorkers, and I wonder how long it’s going to take for me to acclimate to the idea that politely ignoring people (so long as you aren’t in the way and vice versa) isn’t polite here. I mean, people make eye contact and smile here.

What’s up with that?

It’s going to take me a while to start to really like it, much less do it automatically.

And a random observation, because it’s been on my mind: Portlanders are shorter than I expected. In San Francisco, I feel like I’m average height because there are lots of tall people and lots of short people, so I just fall in the mathematical middle. Whereas in Portland, there’s a bell curve, and I’m in the middle bunch. There are a lot of shortish (and bearded) men here. So much so that I sometimes expect to see Gimli when I turn a corner.

Still, all that said, I’m liking this place. I’ve still got boxes to unpack and a city to learn, but it’s lovely and the people are friendly.

More, it’s snowing and the sky is luminous.

Posted in from blog, life: flux | Leave a comment

New story up at Strange Horizons

Posted on January 16, 2012 by Alberto

My first pro story, “Recognizing Gabe: un cuento de hadas,” is up at Strange Horizons.

It’s my Week 5 story from Clarion West. It’s about seeing and being seen, and growing up. Also, tamales.

Posted in from blog, the writing life, Uncategorized | Tagged , | Leave a comment

busy, busy, busy

Posted on January 14, 2012 by Alberto

There’ll be a real post later this weekend, but for now some highlights:

  • I’m furiously trying to get content up on my new official website. By which I mean, I’m grabbing stuff from [there] and trying to make it all coherently organized over [here].
  • My apartment is full of boxes. Boxes everywhere. But I was able to have dinner last night on my own plates, with my own cutlery.
  • The adhesive on contact paper smells horrible.
  • I am really liking my new new school and classes. Maybe it’s just that since the classes I’m now taking are definitely on-track for various careers, the students are more engaged, but it’s kind of fantastic how when the professors ask a question, students will actually volunteer an answer.
  • My senior-aged professor casually talking about her wife? AWESOME.
  • I need blackout curtains for my bedroom.
  • A rat’s mesentery is actually a really pretty thing. It’s like lace.
  • Must needs buy a vacuum cleaner. Also, a dresser.
  • My story gets published on Monday. As others have mentioned, working with editor Karen Meisner is a fantastic experience. She really helped improve and polish the story, for which she has my eternal gratitude.
Posted in from blog, life: flux, school, the writing life | Leave a comment

new in town

Posted on January 8, 2012 by Alberto

Okay, I’m living in Portland.

I’m also kind of quietly freaking out. If you know me, you should know that when I say “kind of,” I really mean “totally.”

It has to do with the whole never having lived so far from my folks before. Right now, it’s feeling like the second and third days of camp when you’re ten years old. That’ll soon change, of course. I mean, I start school tomorrow. I suppose that’s another stressor right there.

I’ve got a few friends in town, so I need to hit them up soon, after I get a bit more settled.

And that’s another thing–I’ll feel much better once my things arrive. At the moment, the only furniture I have is an inflatable mattress. Once my sofa is here, and my dishes, and my bed, and my books, and my shelves, and my DVDs, and the rest of my clothes… I’ll feel better. My art is here (I brought it up myself), but I don’t want to hang it until I know exactly where the bookshelves will go. Oh, and oh my god, the move cost so much more than the original estimate! They don’t account for book weight in the estimate averages, the bastards. Still… if everything gets here safely and unbroken, I’ll chalk it up as money well-spent. (Honestly, I’m terrified that my dishes won’t make it.)

I miss my mom, and I feel guilty about leaving to be so far away. I know that it’s necessary for my long-term goals, sanity, and happiness, but I still feel horrible about it. She’s awesome, you know. I bought her an iPad, because it’s the easiest-to-use computer I could get her, just so that we’d be able to video chat. Yeah–I’m a grown-ass man, and I am kind of a mama’s boy.

But I’m in Portland, taking on the next stage of my life. As I keep reminding myself–and having my friends remind me–I’m here expressly because I decided to be. I made the plans, committed to them, and am following them. They’re good plans, plans that will take me to where I want to be.

And a little terror along the way is just the toll of the road.

Posted in from blog, life: flux | 2 Comments