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Publishing is weird. 

As writers, we all know this, of course. Maybe some of us go in dreaming about the quick six-to-seven-figure sale and movie deal and accolades, but I think many of us dream about quieter things than literary stardom. Our PM announcements, our cover reveals, even that little inbox *ding* when you're querying or on submission. But then you get those sober reminders that the industry can shift beneath your feet at any time.

Last Friday, Angry Robot broke the news that they would be discontinuing their YA imprint, Strange Chemistry, effective immediately. This is

devastating for a number of reasons, of course - imprints like Strange Chem made room for stories you might not otherwise hear, and as #WeNeedDiverseBooks has illustrated, having that space is vitally important. By all accounts it sounds like they had a top-notch staff over there, and I'm sure they will continue to do amazing work elsewhere.

The position the authors find themselves in is much more precarious, though. Their books, the books they worked so hard on, are now orphaned. Debut authors who thought their books would be out in a matter of months, or even weeks, are now back on submission. These people are all fabulously talented and hardworking and I have absolutely no doubt that they will find a home for their books. But I also know it must be very hard to feel optimistic when you've had the rug pulled out from under you.

In the meantime, Strange Chemistry's titles are still available. Having read and adored Gwenda Bond's Roanoke story, BLACKWOOD, I decided to start my reading binge with her book THE WOKEN GODS. Because seriously, how awesome does this sound?

Five years ago, the gods of ancient mythology awoke around the world.

This morning, Kyra Locke is late for school.

Seventeen-year-old Kyra lives in a transformed Washington, D.C., home to the embassies of divine pantheons and the mysterious Society of the Sun. But when rebellious Kyra encounters two trickster gods on her way back from school, one offering a threat and the other a warning, it turns out her life isn't what it seems. She escapes with the aid of Osborne "Oz" Spencer, an intriguing Society field operative, only to discover that her scholar father has disappeared with a dangerous relic. The Society needs it, and they don't care that she knows nothing about her father's secrets.

Now Kyra must depend on her wits and the suspect help of scary gods, her estranged oracle mother, and, of course, Oz--whose first allegiance is to the Society. She has no choice if she's going to recover the missing relic and save her father. And if she doesn't? Well, that may just mean the end of the world as she knows it.

A full list of Strange Chemistry's titles and authors are available here. When you have a moment, look it over. Pay particular attention to those debut authors and follow their books to wherever the publishing whirlwind takes them next. And be sure to read the rest of the amazing Kaye's Support Strange Chem Blog Hop to read more about you can help these fabulous people out.

What's Up Wednesday - Monster Stories

Wow, Blogosphere - it's been a long time!

Sort of. I'm still around, lurking in the shadows. But between new home, new job, and as much writing as I can squeeze around the two, I don't have a whole lot of coherency left to spare!

I can't tell you about all the writing stuff. But here's a tidbit...

My current WIP has led a bit of a tortured life. It's denser and darker and twistier than anything I've ever written - the kind of thing that requires a lot of concentration - and yet every time I got seriously rolling with it, something would interrupt. Usually notes on a different project, but sometimes real life things, too, such as the move to a job I was working at last year.

It's a YA gothic horror novel, a genre I love but had never written before. More often than not I mix my creepy into fantasy, paranormal, or mystery stories, so entering the realm of straight-up horror was quite the exciting new world. And it's a monster story.

There's so much that I love about monster stories, but I think my favorite thing is that they're so personal to the author. I've read monster stories about grief and loss, and the pain of marginalization, even the scope of humanity's kindness and cruelty. Monster stories can be devastating and empowering, horrifying and comforting all at once. I had a vague idea from the start what my monsters were about. This was a story about guilt and memory, the way the things in your head can take shape and come to life - for better or for worse.

At least, I'm pretty sure I came up with that first. I think it was life that started imitating art in this case, and not the other way around. But this time last year, the things in my head were taking shape.

I already knew my anxiety had gotten worse since I graduated college and started work - I became an obsessive quadruple-checker, I had dreams I was at my job, and when I woke up I'd feel like I hadn't slept at all - but it was manageable then, at my first job, and probably not too different than the stress that most of my friends felt. Starting my new job last year was different. I knew from the start it was more than I could handle, and that in normal jobs people didn't go to work every morning terrified of what might be waiting for them there. But I felt stuck, and I felt like I hadn't earned the right to bail out yet, so I stayed for a year.

I wasn't doing well. I think I hid that better from some people than others. I think I hid that extremely well from myself, because as far as I knew, I had an illness that just wouldn't go away. I went through the days exhausted, but when I finally crawled into bed, my own pounding heartbeat would keep me awake. When I think back to last year and all the things I usually look forward to - holidays, family gatherings and so on - I remember feeling too tired and nauseous and dizzy to enjoy anything much. It thankfully didn't manage to ruin the moment I'd dreamed about for three years, but I was even home sick the day that Sara offered me representation, and I remember opening several of her subsequent e-mails in various doctors' offices.

(And there were quite a few of those. And a handful of misdiagnoses that came with them. It wasn't until I was meeting with one of those doctors and let out a particularly dark laugh at the "Do you have a stressful job?" question that the words 'anxiety' and 'depression' were spoken aloud - and even then I didn't think it was right, at first. It was.)

The change was slow, but it happened. I let go of the idea that I was supposed to have some high-powered, Type A day job alongside my writing. I built up the resources and made a change. The 'monster' isn't gone, but it's curled up at the back of my head. It stirred every now and then over the past couple weeks, but it's keeping quiet today. With any luck, it'll be quiet tomorrow, too.

And now, without a few of those interruptions, I can work on that gothic horror WIP. The subject matter is as dark and dense as it ever was, but the process is anything but. It comes from that knowledge, that feeling of being swallowed whole - but it also comes from the feeling of finally finding your way out.

Nomad

DC was never going to be permanent.

I could say the same thing about every place I've lived for the past decade or so. When my family moved to Florida, I knew I wouldn't stay. I grew up with brilliantly-colored autumns and winters that never ended, I wasn't built for that constant heat. And Tokyo had an end date built in. I didn't have time to get comfortable, even though part of me did anyway.

And when I came back to Boston for college, I knew two things: that this was my home without a doubt, but that once those four years were over, I wouldn't necessarily get to stay.

My relationships with places have always been as fraught and complicated as my relationships with people, and for this city, it started as a business transaction. It didn't matter that we were incompatible from the start. It had a job for me, my first real job, so there I was. I didn't think it'd be a problem, leaving this place. I had far fewer attachments here than in any city I've ever lived in. I'd be out the door before it could sting.

But attachments show up whether I like it or not - they always do. The things I hated about this place softened into one big affectionate eye roll. Then I found things to like, then I found things to love: the food, the bus routes, the monuments all lit up at night. I got into the habit of turning off all the lights and pulling back the blinds every night before bed to look out at the National Mall, and I grudgingly had to admit that this place could be beautiful when it wanted to be.

I love it here. I made more amazing friends than I could have hoped for. But I'm still a tourist in the world of politics, and the kind of life I'm looking for as a writer isn't here in DC. So at the end of next month, I am coming home to Boston. And while you can never really say what's going to happen next, it'll be the first time in a long time that I won't be carrying escape routes in the back of my head.

It's exciting, and terrifying, and I'll miss this place more than I can stand. Maybe I'd hoped, at the beginning, to avoid these mixed feelings. But I'm a writer. I should have known better than that. :)

Wish me luck!!

State of the Becky

Heyyyy, all! I hope everyone is doing well, and I hope the USians among you are staying safe amid this swath of summer storms.

Sorry it has been so quiet around here lately! I am still around, lurking and reading all your posts, but I have not had much to post lately. It seems I have finally reached the point in my publishing journey where it's better if I just keep my mouth shut about the specifics until I have something concrete to say - which is not a natural impulse for me, having blogged so heavily about my querying process, but I'm getting used to it! So all I'll say is: all is well, my soul remains uncrushed by this business, and perhaps someday in the future I will be running all over the blogosphere screaming news from the rooftops.

In the meantime, I have hammered out my writing schedule for the foreseeable future, and I am really excited about it. There was a significant period of time last year where I had a lot of half-formed ideas but wasn't truly excited about any of them, but now I'm really happy with my line-up and I can't wait to get to work. And, of course, this allows for the prospect of a new idea coming in and sweeping me off my feet, which is always fun.

Here's what I've got on tap, and the order in which I'll tackle them:

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Project #1: Revisionland! Once again. =P I would have thought that revising a single manuscript so many times would be a tad bit disheartening, but it's actually really fun. There's something really fascinating about working on something you know inside and out -just when you think you're done renovating, you find a whole new floor of the house you haven't even touched yet. Working on this one has really been a crash course in how to be a better writer. I'm just waiting on some notes, and then off I go again.

Project #2: Drafting overhaul. I generally don't do this, but Project #2 is a special case - the drafting process got pretty broken up amidst all my trips to Revisionland, and though I had 60k under my belt in the first draft, I realized I was going into Act Three without any of my usual momentum. And since this is probably one of the most heavily structured stories I've done, I need that momentum!

So once those Project #1 revisions are done, I'm going back to the beginning with Project #2. I won't be starting from scratch, but I can change the things I need to change, and keep the rest consistent. And that'll free me up to plow full speed ahead into the as-yet-unwritten denouement!

Project #3: Drafting! FINALLY. Project #3 has gone through two or three false starts since I came up with the idea a couple years ago, and it's finally ready to go. And I couldn't be happier. It'll take me back in a more surreal, fantastical direction (Project #2 is straight gothic horror), it takes place in one of my favorite cities in the world, and if I do it right, it will give people nightmares. So let's hope I do it right.

*

So that's what I'm up to, loves. What are you working on this summer?

A Special Preview for Leigh Ann Kopans' ONE - in Comic Form!

Hey all! As I'm sure many of you know, the fabulous Ms. Leigh Ann Kopans is coming out with her debut novel, ONE, TOMORROW! As a proud (and thoroughly psyched) member of #TeamONE, today I will be posting the final graphic novel-style preview of ONE. For more information and to see more of the comic, see the link list at the end of the post!

Find a full list with links to the other installments of this series on the author’s blog: 
www.leighannkopans.blogspot.com

Or follow the author on Twitter @LeighAnnKopans for daily updates!


About ONE (a novel by Leigh Ann Kopans:)

Release date: June 11, 2013

When having two powers makes you a Super and having none makes you a Normal, having only one makes you a sad half-superpowered freak.

It makes you a One.

Sixteen-year-old Merrin Grey would love to be able to fly – too bad all she can do is hover.

If she could just land an internship at the Biotech Hub, she might finally figure out how to fix herself. She busts her butt in AP Chem and salivates over the Hub’s research on the manifestation of superpowers, all in hopes of boosting her chances.

Then she meets Elias VanDyne, another One, and all her carefully crafted plans fly out the window.

Literally. When the two of them touch, their Ones combine to make them fly, and when they’re not soaring over the Nebraska cornfields, they’re busy falling for each other.

Merrin's mad chemistry skills land her a spot on the Hub's internship short list, but as she gets closer to the life she always wanted, she discovers that the Hub’s purpose is more sinister than it has always seemed. Now it’s up to her to decide if it's more important to fly solo, or to save everything - and everyone - she loves.

Add ONE to your Goodreads and learn more about the author here: http://www.goodreads.com/book/
show/17251203-one

Things to love about Boston (and Cambridge, and Somerville, and so on)

Driving across the bridge at night with the windows rolled down.

Getting hilariously lost and eventually figuring out where you are in relation to the Pru (or the Citgo sign, for that matter.)

Friday night singalongs at Jake Wirth's, and how Pianoman judges song appropriateness by the lateness of the hour. ("Lola? At 8:00? Ask me again when everyone's had a few more drinks.")

The view from the windows of the train when the Red Line rolls across the river at the MGH stop.

Umbrella jousting with Newbury Street crowds on a rainy Saturday morning.

T operators who see you running down the stairs and hold the train for you.

Dinner at Bluefin. Or Addis Red Sea. Or Shabu-ya. Or Fugakyu. Or any Indian restaurant you can find.

The North End. All of the North End.

That immediate bond you feel with other pedestrians when a driver does someting monumentally stupid. Especially when you all start cussing him out at the same time.

Walking all the way from Kendall to Porter on a beautiful day.

Hot taro milk bubble tea.

Irish coffee at 1:00am in some random pub you've never seen before.

$10 nosebleed seats at the theatre.

The thick, thick accents of the T operators. "Next stop: Pahk Street."

Waiting for the bus on a freezing winter night and huddling with your closest friends for warmth.

The way you have to work together to hold each other up on a crowded Green Line train.

Building a Halloween costume from whatever random pieces you can find at the Garment District.

Running to catch your movie at the AMC Boston Common after one of those ridiculously strong cocktails in Chinatown. Bonus points for high heels.

Game day. Even if you're not going to the game.

The way certain T stations will always be under construction.

The way the old and the new bleed into each other - the sheer amount of character in each square foot of architechure.

A quiet morning and a Dunkin iced coffee the size of your torso.

The sarcasm, the abrasiveness, the snark, the gallows humor. The knowledge that despite all of it, these people have your back.

Descending into the tunnel on the drive from Logan and knowing that when you get to the other side, you'll be home.

A peaceful moment in a beautiful town

There's nothing I could possibly say right now, so here's a video of a dog playing fetch in the fountain in Copley Square, Boston.