Before I dash off to work (where I spend nearly all my time right now), a few quick updates and previews for this weekend's more extensive update:
1) I am currently working laying out pages of "The Fox and the Shadow." A preview page will be posted this weekend!
2) Anne, the illustrator of "The Goblin Prince," sent some new character sketches. They are absolutely fabulous and even better than before, as hard as that is to believe! They will be posted as we start to finalize the vision. Also, the manuscript itself is undergoing considerable changes, so it is a bit away from completion. I'll work on it much more after my classes finish their exams and I submit my graduate school applications.
3) "Reckoning" is in the midst of a complete overhaul. A new version will be up within the next month. Thank you for your patience!
Hummus and Kimchi is the home for Matthew Goodman's musings about the world and the best place to find updates on his various writing projects.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Letting Go
Today, around 8 PM, the edges of the sky turned gold, then dark blue, then purple. Clouds lazed in their grooves while the wind sang a silly song. Then I, brief repose complete, returned to my class.
It has been two months since my last update. Much has changed. Summer is fading and autumn is kissing the leaves. Parts of my life that I believed unending have ended, and new chapters have begun. Spring is supposedly the season of renewal, but perhaps there is a chance that buds can bloom before the snows arrive. Although my progress is uneven, I have been learning to let go.
Happily, one flower, planted months ago, is reaching fullness. Steph recently sent me the completed illustrations for "The Fox and the Shadow." As individuals, they are precious. Each somehow tells a complete story on its own, with colors and shapes wriggling about playfully. But as a whole, they are far greater.
As you will see once the layout is complete, the images in sequence convey the transformation the Fox endures in the name of vanity. The Fox is not a terrible being; his pure-hearted friends love and cherish him. But he is a flawed one, and in the end, his flaw lays him low. Somehow, Steph touches the Fox's soul and brings it onto the page for all to see and, hopefully, learn from.
One note before bed: Updates will be more frequent now, probably weekly. As much as I would like to speak with all of you every day, my current work schedule combined with graduate school applications makes it impossible. However, I will stay in better touch from now on.
I promise.
It has been two months since my last update. Much has changed. Summer is fading and autumn is kissing the leaves. Parts of my life that I believed unending have ended, and new chapters have begun. Spring is supposedly the season of renewal, but perhaps there is a chance that buds can bloom before the snows arrive. Although my progress is uneven, I have been learning to let go.
Happily, one flower, planted months ago, is reaching fullness. Steph recently sent me the completed illustrations for "The Fox and the Shadow." As individuals, they are precious. Each somehow tells a complete story on its own, with colors and shapes wriggling about playfully. But as a whole, they are far greater.
As you will see once the layout is complete, the images in sequence convey the transformation the Fox endures in the name of vanity. The Fox is not a terrible being; his pure-hearted friends love and cherish him. But he is a flawed one, and in the end, his flaw lays him low. Somehow, Steph touches the Fox's soul and brings it onto the page for all to see and, hopefully, learn from.
One note before bed: Updates will be more frequent now, probably weekly. As much as I would like to speak with all of you every day, my current work schedule combined with graduate school applications makes it impossible. However, I will stay in better touch from now on.
I promise.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Mid-July Update
Sorry for the week-long hiatus. Life creeps up on you sometimes and all you can do is try to deal with what it brings. Happily, there are many great things on the horizon!
On Monday, my writing group met for the first time. I presented "The Goblin Prince" and "Across the Ocean" and received fantastic feedback. For example, in "The Goblin Prince," there is little background on the goblins. Other aspects of the back-story and world are similarly unexplained due to the word constraints of the standard 32 page picture book. However, without these explanations, the entire story falls a bit flat. So it is changing to an older age bracket, loosening word constraints so Hetsi, Agorot, and friends get their due.
I also met with Steph Becker, the illustrator for "The Fox and the Shadow." We are on track to finish in early August and the new illustrations are wonderful! They capture the Fox's journey into narcissism and isolation through color and form while still forming a coherent whole. It is a privilege to work with such a talented artist. Plus, we came up with an idea for another project, tentatively titled "Rabbits and Robots." Exciting stuff!
Although it can be difficult to find time for new writing given the demands of editing existing work, rough manuscripts of three new works are nearing completion. To whet your appetite, here are the titles and short descriptions:
"Across the Ocean": A family in a coastal village face a wrenching decision when there are no longer enough fish to catch. Two brothers set out on a journey across the ocean to find a better life in a new land.
"Sarah and the Sunken Ship": Sarah, a mermaid, lives happily underwater in a sunken ship. When she rescues a handsome sailor from a shipwreck, they fall in love. But when he decides to return to land, she has to decide: Will she follow? Or is there another solution? A feminist take on a familiar story.
"Shira and the Tree of Stars": Shira's life is great; she spends her days wandering the forest with her grandparents and her nights learning from her parents. But one day, her grandmother comes down with a mysterious illness. Shira learns about the interconnectedness of life and death, and discovers how even those who die live on in our memories and hearts.
So stay tuned! There is plenty to come!
On Monday, my writing group met for the first time. I presented "The Goblin Prince" and "Across the Ocean" and received fantastic feedback. For example, in "The Goblin Prince," there is little background on the goblins. Other aspects of the back-story and world are similarly unexplained due to the word constraints of the standard 32 page picture book. However, without these explanations, the entire story falls a bit flat. So it is changing to an older age bracket, loosening word constraints so Hetsi, Agorot, and friends get their due.
I also met with Steph Becker, the illustrator for "The Fox and the Shadow." We are on track to finish in early August and the new illustrations are wonderful! They capture the Fox's journey into narcissism and isolation through color and form while still forming a coherent whole. It is a privilege to work with such a talented artist. Plus, we came up with an idea for another project, tentatively titled "Rabbits and Robots." Exciting stuff!
Although it can be difficult to find time for new writing given the demands of editing existing work, rough manuscripts of three new works are nearing completion. To whet your appetite, here are the titles and short descriptions:
"Across the Ocean": A family in a coastal village face a wrenching decision when there are no longer enough fish to catch. Two brothers set out on a journey across the ocean to find a better life in a new land.
"Sarah and the Sunken Ship": Sarah, a mermaid, lives happily underwater in a sunken ship. When she rescues a handsome sailor from a shipwreck, they fall in love. But when he decides to return to land, she has to decide: Will she follow? Or is there another solution? A feminist take on a familiar story.
"Shira and the Tree of Stars": Shira's life is great; she spends her days wandering the forest with her grandparents and her nights learning from her parents. But one day, her grandmother comes down with a mysterious illness. Shira learns about the interconnectedness of life and death, and discovers how even those who die live on in our memories and hearts.
So stay tuned! There is plenty to come!
Labels:
across the ocean,
Goblin Prince,
rabbit robots,
sarah ship,
shira tree
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Sorry but...
my lovely girlfriend, Sharon, is returning from Italy today. So the update will wait until tomorrow.
In the meantime, here is a wonderful meditation from Jed Perl of The New Republic on Charles Burchfield, fireworks, and the 4th of July.
In the meantime, here is a wonderful meditation from Jed Perl of The New Republic on Charles Burchfield, fireworks, and the 4th of July.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Searching, Searching, Finding?
I became a writer, in part, because business bores me. To be more specific, making things is more interesting than selling things in my world. Thus, having an agent, someone to take care of the business end of creation, is essential.
But it is impossible to find an agent without doing business-y things. I have a spreadsheet packed with critical details: name of agency, name of agent, submission details, date of submission, manuscript submitted, and the like. It is eerily similar to the spreadsheets I made during my stint in custom publishing. I am sending missives off into the void with little hope of hearing an echo in reply.
It is grim work. I didn't write or edit my projects for a few days. My typing consisted of Google searches and information copy-pasted into the hated spreadsheet. I spent hours alone as goblins and vikings fled before the all-important Search.
Today, I stumbled across a few forums of fellow writers. They too had been firing off queries and manuscripts into the electronic desert, their hopes attached to digital wings. "How long should I wait without a reply?" one anguished author asked. Responses poured in. "Two months!" "Six weeks!" "Six months!" "I waited a year before getting a form rejection."
At first, I thought, how pathetic they are, like a bunch of broken gamblers recounting bad beat stories over cigarettes. I'll never be like them!
But as I kept reading, my disgust disappeared. Some of the posters had been around for years, collecting enough rejections to construct a fortress of platitudes. Yet they kept writing, kept submitting, kept marching forward. I am only now sending work into the wild, and am already haunted by the specter of future rejection.
They have been rejected only minutes after sending out a query. They have had agents ask for full manuscripts only to say no after months of silence. They have had their hearts lifted and broken countless times. They have gotten drunk in celebration after an agent scheduled a phone call, and gotten drunk after the agent never actually called.
They are not pitiable figures, these erstwhile writers struggling and failing to realize their dreams. They are heroes, at least in my book. How many are too afraid of failure to even try? How many die thinking "I should have told her I love her" or "I should have left my job" or "I should have written that book about nuclear-powered midget robots"?
These writers will die without regrets. They have felt more than almost anyone else, even if what they have felt is mostly pain.
It is the pain of childbirth. Of watching your child learn what it means to have a broken heart. It is the special pain reserved for those who dare to fight for their dreams.
I will write; I will know rejection. I will probably fail. But like those courageous idiots on the writer's forums, I will write until they pry the keyboard from my cold, dead hands.
But it is impossible to find an agent without doing business-y things. I have a spreadsheet packed with critical details: name of agency, name of agent, submission details, date of submission, manuscript submitted, and the like. It is eerily similar to the spreadsheets I made during my stint in custom publishing. I am sending missives off into the void with little hope of hearing an echo in reply.
It is grim work. I didn't write or edit my projects for a few days. My typing consisted of Google searches and information copy-pasted into the hated spreadsheet. I spent hours alone as goblins and vikings fled before the all-important Search.
Today, I stumbled across a few forums of fellow writers. They too had been firing off queries and manuscripts into the electronic desert, their hopes attached to digital wings. "How long should I wait without a reply?" one anguished author asked. Responses poured in. "Two months!" "Six weeks!" "Six months!" "I waited a year before getting a form rejection."
At first, I thought, how pathetic they are, like a bunch of broken gamblers recounting bad beat stories over cigarettes. I'll never be like them!
But as I kept reading, my disgust disappeared. Some of the posters had been around for years, collecting enough rejections to construct a fortress of platitudes. Yet they kept writing, kept submitting, kept marching forward. I am only now sending work into the wild, and am already haunted by the specter of future rejection.
They have been rejected only minutes after sending out a query. They have had agents ask for full manuscripts only to say no after months of silence. They have had their hearts lifted and broken countless times. They have gotten drunk in celebration after an agent scheduled a phone call, and gotten drunk after the agent never actually called.
They are not pitiable figures, these erstwhile writers struggling and failing to realize their dreams. They are heroes, at least in my book. How many are too afraid of failure to even try? How many die thinking "I should have told her I love her" or "I should have left my job" or "I should have written that book about nuclear-powered midget robots"?
These writers will die without regrets. They have felt more than almost anyone else, even if what they have felt is mostly pain.
It is the pain of childbirth. Of watching your child learn what it means to have a broken heart. It is the special pain reserved for those who dare to fight for their dreams.
I will write; I will know rejection. I will probably fail. But like those courageous idiots on the writer's forums, I will write until they pry the keyboard from my cold, dead hands.
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