Be sure to sign up for Jessica’s new conference! I’ll be there – you should be too!

Making It in Tough & Changing Times

A Mini Writing Conference

January 28^th, Portland, Oregon

At last, a practical one-day conference filled with just the information that you need to propel your writing career to the next level and muscle your way to publication.  We’ll cover everything from creating potent sentences and writing irresistible query letters, to writing killer openers and making it as a writer in a media-saturated world.

Time: 8:30-5:30

Cost: $99 Includes Continental breakfast, catered lunch, workshops and keynote address by author Christina Katz.

Location: Tabor Space, 5441 S.E. Belmont , Portland, Oregon

8:30  Registration, Continental Breakfast 

8:45 Introductory Remarks:

So What do you Mean Writing is a Life? Jessica Morrell

9:00  One Strong Sentence After Another, Monica Drake 

Editor Gordon Lisch famously said that good writing is a matter of one strong sentence after another. In this craft workshop we’ll examine techniques that build muscle and cut the fat in each sentence. Participants may join at any level of experience. They’ll leave with examples and ideas to improve their own work quickly. This may be applied to any genre of literary fiction and nonfiction.

10:30  Killer Openers, Jessica Morrell

 All writing lives and dies by the opening lines. The opening paragraphs have a huge job — to hook the reader. We’ll discuss how killer openers immediately set the tone of the story, raise questions that require answers, and hit the reader square between the eyes often by being surprising or shocking. Of course we’ll also talk about how not to kill openings with common blunders and missteps.  If you want readers and to sell to editors, this workshop is for you.

12:00 Keynote:

The Prosperous Writer: Tips For Navigating The Gig Economy, Christina Katz 

Writing well, closing sales, narrowing your focus, continuous learning, and a career-long willingness to self-promote—these are the five qualities of prosperous writers. But how will you sustain your creative productivity and juggle all of these skills at once? These are the creative productivity secrets that most writers rarely share. Myths will be busted. Truths will be bared.

1:00  Anatomy of a Scene, Jessica Morrell

Scenes are the basic units of storytelling. They dramatize everyday life and highlight key moments. In scenes something significant happens that has not happened before and will not happen again. Every scene brings the story to a new place in the narrative, and offers something fresh to stir readers’ emotions.  Scenes are the intimate moments in the story that create emotional involvement with the reader.

2:15  

Paring it Down to the Truth, Emily Whitman

“Make every word count.” You hear it all the time, but how do you do it? Whether you tend to write long and then slash, or pithy and then add, you need to cut the dross in that final draft. Paring it down doesn’t always mean cutting it short: pacing and rhythm matter. Years of writing educational passages with strict word limits have taught Emily a thing or two about trimming down to the essentials. This workshop will teach you the tricks and tools at your disposal, from the concrete to the conceptual.

3:30  What Editors Want , Adam O’Connor Rodriguez

An editor will discuss query letters, cover letters, and manuscript presentation. He’ll reveal what editors love to see in a submission and what they hate to see. Workshop participants are encouraged to submit their query letters and before hand for insightful feedback. Adam will also answer questions about the submission process.

4:40  Panel/Q & A: Risk It To Get Published with Christina Katz, Jessica Morrell, and Adam O’Connor Rodriguez

5:15  Book signing, Closing remarks.

To register: Contact Jessica Morrell at jessicapage(at)spirtone (dot)com

Space is limited. Early registration is recommended. Payments can be made by check or through Paypal. Mailing address is: Jessica Morrell, P.O. Box 820141, Portland, OR 97282-114.1

I once took a job for a well-known glassblower and sculptor. It was a short-lived position doing small artsy embellishments and odd jobs in his studio in the woods of Southwest Washington. He was nice, professional and courteous, but we didn’t talk much – well, I should say, HE didn’t talk much. He lived a reclusive life, tucked in the wilderness with glassblowing forges and workshops.

One day as I peeled the protective sheeting off a vase I’d just sandblasted, I lamented out loud that I’d ruined it.

“What?” he asked, walking over. “What have you ruined?”

“I’m so sorry, I ruined this vase.” I was ill at the thought as I knew his vases sold for several hundreds of dollars and his bowls went for thousands to museums and collectors around the world.

“Let me see,” he said, taking the vase in hand. Hands gentle as an artist, roughened with years of hard work.

He turned the onyx glass over in his palm, examining where I was supposed to sandblast the gold metallic inlay off in an asymmetric design.

A small bubble in the plastic as I’d laid it, left a pinhead spot along the design where metal grit from the blaster was able to get in and mar the straight line by a barely noticeable curve.

But to me – I’d ruined it. The whole vase was now worthless.

He looked at me. Large soulful artist eyes. Then for a man who rarely ever spoke he handed the vase back to me and said.

“I see the imperfection you’re talking about, but the piece is far from ruined.” He leaned against the counter and sighed. “Athena, you’re a writer – an artist, let me ask you a question as an artist.”

I nodded, still convinced I’d failed him as an assistant for ruining his vase. Even though I’d sand-blasted dozens of the same vases and hadn’t made a mistake on any of the others.

His dark eyes bored into mine and he asked, “How do you know, as an artist, when to let your work go into the world? When is it done?”

Without hesitation, I blurted, “It’s never done. It can always be better.”

He burst out laughing. It was so unexpected and rich, such a deep timbre of amusement that I smiled. My failure anxiety diminishing.

He finished laughing, chuckling between breaths and asked, “Spoken like a true artist.” Then he laughed some more and asked, “How old are you? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Twenty-three.”

My age hadn’t been a consideration of my employment as his assistant. In fact, I’d been hired because I had some minor glass work experience and workshop knowledge about COE and an eye for design and color. His wife had made most of the arrangements and he seems content to have me around doing the small production needs as long as I wasn’t underfoot or in the hot-line near the forge.

“Twenty-three,” he said softly. “I remember what it was like to be twenty-three and unable to let my work leave my hands.”

He sighed, pushing away from the counter and nodded toward the vase, “It is fixable, and sometimes the imperfection actually makes the piece more interesting. One day you’ll understand that.”

I tried to smile, but still felt guilty. “Okay.”

“Athena,” he continued. “Someday, you’ll have to learn to let your work out into the world. Do the best you can with it, but know it will never be perfect and let it have a life beyond yourself. This is the most difficult thing for an artist to do – you will have to reach a point of acceptance and release. Your life as an artist depends on it.”

He walked back toward the forge. Gold light spilling from the hearths framed his body.

I glanced down at the vase and thought, “This is fixable?”

My job there was short-lived. His work seasons only lasted a few months of the year when it was cold enough outside the forges could run during the day without sweltering everyone in the studio.

But I thought about what he said, the one day he actually spoke. I didn’t believe him at the time, that there would be a day when I’d have to let my art leave my hands and have a life beyond me. Over the years, I often thought about that conversation; especially when I sat at my computer looking at a chapter I believed I’d ruined and thought, “Wait, this is fixable.”

Now, a decade later, I think I finally get it.

It’s time to let go, send my work out into the world. Imperfections and all.

Tomorrow I will be putting up the trailer for my book, and the first few chapters for review.

While my manuscript is with the editors I’ll be marketing like a maniac and prepping for an early April 2012 launch of my book as an e-published, independent production.

Wow. It’s terrifying, and yet so exciting.

The video production is lined up. The cover artist is on board. The editors are waiting for the manuscript. The kickstart is being organized. The formatter is on line. Everyone is set to jump in gear January 10^th, the day after the deadline for the last agent to make an offer.

It’s green across the board.

All that’s left is for me to unflex my fingers – and just let it happen. To reach a point of acceptance and release.

Imperfections and all.