Wonderful quotes from Elmore Leonard

From Janet Reid, Literary Agent, wisdom from Elmore Leonard

"I spent 10 years writing short stories, or ten years 'getting better'."

"I started out imitating Hemingway till I found out he (Hemingway) had no sense of humor."

"If it sounds like writing, rewrite."

"Outlining means you go with an idea that could be old or outdated as the novel develops"

"Don't muck it up with -ly words"

"Watch for words that don't belong in the book because they are not natural to the characters"

There's more. Check the original article.
Which is your favorite? Mine is the one about Hemingway, but the most practical for me is the advice to rewrite.

The Feathered Edge: The Australian Connection

Another of the writers whose work I got to know through the SFWA Circulating Book Plan was Australian Sean McMullen. I think the book was Glass Dragons, the second of his Moonworlds series. It's often challenging to begin a series in the middle, but this one posed no problem. Dragons and vampires and "War of the Worlds" and angsty heroes and radical organizers-of-the-people's-revolution, oh my! Well, not all in that first book, but it was enough to get me hooked.

So a little while later, I wandered into the Tor party at a WorldCon and there was Sean McMullen. I think the introduction caught me by surprise because the first words out of my mouth (after "Hello, I'm Deborah") were, "I love your work!" And received a glorious smile in reply, as if I'd just handed him a precious gift. And yes, it was. We create in such solitude, and reviews are such treacherous things when it comes to "did people like my book? did they understand it?" Then to come all the way to a different continent, to be surrounded by people you've heard of and maybe corresponded with but never met in person, and to have a fellow writer recognize your name and have read -- and remembered -- your work. What a joy!

That conversation was necessarily brief. If you've attended a publisher's party -- or any part -- at a WorldCon, you will understand why. Most communications at large conventions are sound bytes anyway, but when you add a crushing crowd, noise, and alcohol, it's many times so. But Sean and his work kept crossing my path -- we both love cats, we're both martial artists (or I used to be -- 30 years of tai chi and kung fu). By the strange synchronicity of publishing, when I returned to the pages of F & SF with my own work ("The Price of Silence," April/May. 2009), it was to an issue that had a story of Sean's as well.

I can take a hint. When I was scheming The Feathered Edge, I wrote to him. We worked together on one story idea, and eventually he sent me "Culverelle." Curiously enough, is set in the same world, with the same overall characters and tale, as "The Spiral Briar" from F & SF. They are not the same stories in that they have different emotional and moral centers, but if you fell in love with Eleanor (as I did), and you savor the wonderful blend of engineering, chivalry, and Faerie, I encourage you to run out and find the other story -- and make a note to look for the novel The Iron Warlock when it's released.

"Culverelle" in some ways belongs to the small but excellent group of stories about women learning to be warriors -- by training. By practicing, by learning what their strengths and weaknesses are and by using those strengths in an intelligent way. (Another example is Barbara Hambly's novel, The Ladies of Mandrigyn.) I love that Sean doesn't simply wave his authorial hands and turn a determined but unfit woman into a super-paladin in a few paragraphs. When we take on such a training, we must be prepared for it to change us in more than physical ways.

Later in the anthology, you'll meet another woman warrior, from Judith Tarr's "The Woman Who Fell In Love With The Horned King." See what you think about what they have in common, and how their experiences are different. As a fascinating side note, the swordswoman on the cover could be either!

For shame, RWA!

Most of you folks already know that the RWI (Romance Writers Ink, a chapter of the Romance Writers of America) have excluded the depiction of same-sex couples from its "More Than Magic" contest. There have been a number of eloquent blog posts about this. Here's one: RWA Shouldn’t Be in the Business of Discrimination, by Heidi Cullinan

I'm struck by the near-simultaneity of this decision and the recent actions of the Susan B. Komen Foundation in pulling their funding from Planned Parenthood. Both are blatant attacks against groups of people (LGBTQI and poor women) who are exploited, discriminated against, and disempowered. The Komen Foundation reversed its position (whether they did so gracefully is another issue entirely). It is to be hoped that the RWI will do the same.

Meanwhile, what is to be done about a publishing environment in which an entire population of readers and writers can be summarily excluded (supposedly because some of the judges might be "uncomfortable" with queer characters and situation)? I'd say Get new judges. Queer folk have been bombarded with straight love stories ad infinitum -- where is it written that straight folk cannot appreciate a queer love story? If romance has an element of allowing us to vicariously experience an amazing relationship, to struggle against obstacles and glory in a happy ending, don't we all deserve that? Why should some of us have to settle for never reading about characters like us? How about the principle that good writing is good writing?

Should we hold our own contest?

Boycott this one?

Support and publicize works that include loving and yes, lusty relationships between queer characters?

As an established writer, I am not eligible, nor have I the least interest in entering the MTM contest. (One reason I would never do so is that they charge an entry fee, thus violating the principle that money flows to the author.

Meanwhile, any suggestions for the sweetest, most heart-meltingly wonderful queer love story? Let's talk about what works for our hearts, as well as um, parts lower down.


The illustration is by Peter Behrens (1868–1940), c. 1898.