Posts tagged ‘writing’
WRITER’S FORUM: REFDESK
WRITER’S FORUM
REFDESK
Refdesk is a website offering an unbelievable wealth of information.
News outlets and access to a host of newspapers – it’s all there.
Also, links to many websites providing information on a wide variety of topics.
Give it a try. You won’t be disappointed. And it’s free.
Reference, Facts, News – Free and Family-friendly Resources – Refdesk.com
WRITER’S FORUM: DUOTROPE
WRITER’S FORUM
DUOTROPE
If you choose not to take the easy path of self-publishing to becoming a published writer, which requires no judge of talent and no gatekeeper, I suggest you look to Duotrope to locate a publisher.
More on my thoughts of self-publishing in a future post.
Duotrope is a fantastic website for locating publishers of fiction, non-fiction and poetry. An annual fee of $50 will gain you access. I primarily seek publishers of fiction and there are thousands listed. You are provided with a questionnaire to fill out for the piece you wish to publish and a search will provide you with a list of potential publishers.
You will find markets which are paying and non-paying, how long the publisher has been in existence and, with some publishers, statistics on acceptance, rejections and response times. A link for each publisher is provided to their website which gives information for making a submission and further information about the publisher.
If you are serious about becoming a published writer with an established publisher I highly recommend that you consider Duotrope.
Here are some links to provide you with information about Duotrope.
Duotrope: A Basic Guide to Using the Site
A WRITER’S FORUM
A WRITER’S FORUM
With this posting I am reinstating a series from the past, A Writer’s Forum.
I have accumulated, over the course of my twenty-four years of calling myself a writer, information which writers will find beneficial. The information is primarily in the form of websites. And as always you will find all postings on my blog to is free.
If you are serious about writing, and I will discuss what I mean by serious, I think you will find these posts to be of value.
PLUMBING PROBLEMS: PART VIII
PLUMBING PROBLEMS VIII
While Robin was involved with her various activities, I busied myself with some errands. After a few hours we returned home and as we approached the house, I was surprised to see Dave’s truck still in my driveway. I got Robin settled with a snack and a video we had rented, then proceeded upstairs to see how things are coming along. I thought Dave would be long gone by now. The fact that he was still here was not a good sign; a big bill was heading my way. Halfway up the stairs, I was greeted by a horrible stench that started me gagging. I made it up the stairs and opened some of the windows. The house smelled like Porto-John on a hot summer day. I was not really prepared for what I found in the master bathroom. Dave’s tools were scattered over the floor, but Dave wasn’t there. Yellowish goo, inches deep in some places, covered the bathroom floor. The smell in the bathroom was horrible, smelling as if the septic system had backed up and that smell was combined with another smell that defied description. I hurried from the bathroom and started calling for Dave. I went outside for some fresh air and took a short walk around the property. Jack was working in his field, so I asked if he had seen anyone walking around my place. Jack just shook his head and went back to his work. Finally, I phoned Dave’s office and was greeted by the voice of a young woman who introduced herself as Debbie Watson and asked how she could help me. I told her who I was and that Dave’s truck was still at my house but I couldn’t find Dave and my plumbing problems were getting worse. Debbie’s voice changed from that of a professional secretary to a worried wife and then to something else. She suddenly sounded furious.
MY ATTEMPT AT WRITING POETRY: WAITING TOOL
Published by New Worlds Unlimited in Mysteries of the Lyric World in 1988.
WAITING TOOL
A pencil sits poised
Waiting to give life,
As a sculptor creates form
From the essence of marble,
So, the words await
Needing a sculptor of thought.
A WRITER’S DILEMMA REVISITED
Less than eight hours after posting yesterday’s piece where I mention that I thought a writer did not get enough feedback from an editor when your work is accepted for publication I was notified by and editor that short story of mine was accepted for publication, and why it was accepted.
So much for that opinion. I felt I needed to relate to you, at least in this instance, I was wrong.
This story has an interesting history.
I began writing it a little over twenty years ago. It’s gone through many rewrites and many rejections. I finally realized that the premise worked but the approach was all wrong and unbelievable. I finally got the writing right.
I’ll let you know where and when it will be published.
A WRITER’S DILEMMA
This piece is for writers and future writers, but I encourage you readers to read and discover some of the speedbumps those words you enjoy are encountering.
As with all writers, I have accumulated my fair share of rejections. Often the rejection is a form letter with no indication as to why the work was rejected, or if it’s even been read. But on occasion I have received what I consider a ‘good rejection’. From the editor’s response you know that your work was read for they will tell you why it was rejected and what they consider to be its weaknesses. With this knowledge necessary corrections can be made which may be able to smooth the road to publication.
Now here’s the problem. When a piece is accepted for publication the editors seldom, if ever, tell you, in any detail, why they accepted the piece.
I recently had a short story accepted for publication. The editor said it was the best story she read that day. Why was it the best story of the day? I, for one, never question the editor who accepted my story as to why they accepted it.
Leave well enough alone.
So, this is the dilemma I see. For me, I have sometimes learned why my work was rejected. But never learn why it was accepted. That knowledge might be as helpful as that gained in a rejection.
What do you writers think?
MY ATTEMPT AT WRITING POETRY
MY ATTEPT AT WRITING POETRY
I think, in the remote passages of my brain, I have always wanted to be a writer. There was something about holding a pencil and recording ideas and stories I found appealing.
I eventually chose science as a career. But long before I knew science was the path I would follow, I began writing. My first attempt at writing was poetry and had my first poem published while in high school. I wrote a poem for acceptance in a high school poetry anthology. My friends thought it was a good poem, but my English teacher did not. She changed the end of the poem to something I thought ruined it, but it was published.
While in college and beyond I continued and continue to write poetry. I had quite a few poems published by little-known publishers in even lesser-known publications. One publisher published at least one poem of mine in a yearly anthology for fourteen years. While publishing poetry I adhered to a principle I continue to this day. I will never pay to have something I have written published.
I now write science fiction and horror and have for the last twenty-three years, and still, the occasional poem.
What follows will be a series of published poems.
Hope you find some enjoyment in them.
YOU KNOW YOU’RE GETTING OLD WHEN . . .
You remember a time when ballpoint pens did not exist. If you wanted to write in ink you used a fountain pen which you loaded with ink. When ballpoint pens did make their appearance, they were not disposable. When you ran out of ink you bought a refill.
SNOW, A WINTER POEM
I offer this poem, for obvious reasons, when it snows. In the area of Pennsylvania where I live, we have just had our first measurable snow in almost two years. So, it’s time has once again arrived.
This poem was inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s, The Bells.
THE SNOW
See the delicate snowflakes fall,
Falling, falling, falling.
Whitening the earth, waiting below,
Falling, falling, falling.
See the mounds of glittering white,
Building, building, building.
As they hide the ground from our sight,
Building, building, building.
See the ceaseless falling snow,
Falling, falling, falling.
Will it stop, no one quite knows,
Falling, falling, falling.
See the drifts accumulate,
Building, building, building.
My longing for spring intensely waits,
Building, building, building.
SEE THE DAMNED WHITE BLANKET GROW,
HIDING, HIDING, HIDING.
MY CAR, MY LAWN, ALL I KNOW,
HIDING, HIDING, HIDING.
SEE MY MADNESS, MY URGE TO KILL,
GROWING, GROWING, GROWING,
CROSS MY PATH, AND I’LL DO YOU ILL,
SMILING, SMILING, SMILING.
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