#it started out being short stories then novella length stories and then song lyrics

[mitamicah]

Omg, hold on a second. Your lyrics are insane. Please excuse me while I cry over them. Straight to the heart, into the pool of emotions.

So pretty, so neat. So emotionally raw and beautiful. That touched something in me, if I weren’t at work I would cry over them. Can’t await to take a deep dive into your other stuff.

Thank you for sharing. :3

The worst (best?) is that this is only the beginning :'D

But thank you so much, Jay 🥺 It honores me to know my words can touch you like this 🥹💚

[raendown]

Writer Asks

Got tagged in this whole ass meme by @a-kid-named-hiro so I did the whole ass meme for ya bud. Enjoy. 

ink: what do you do to “set the mood” when writing?

lol I don’t, I just open the Word document and start writing

pen and paper: do you prefer writing by hand or on a device? why?

Typing always. I type a lot faster than I write by hand and since I’ll have to type it up eventually I might as well do it the first time.

diary: how many pieces have you written that are just for you or will never see the light of day?

The only things that never see the light of day are the abandoned pieces.

journal: do you ever write just so you can enjoy something to read?

No, I write because I have stories to tell. If I just needed something to read I would go open up my AO3 bookmarks or grab a book from my library.

novella: do you prefer to write short stories, one-shots, or entire novels?

Depends? I find my strength is in the mid-length stories. Longer ones tend to lose their quality as I go along, at least in my eyes, and I can pump out short stories quicker to feel more productive. But lately I have been more proud of my longer stories as I get more practice with them. 

pulitzer: tell about/link a piece where you felt your writing was the best.

Some things I think I did particularly well on would be In Memory Of, Crowns of Blood and Bone, Protostellar, and Wounded lips and Salted Cheeks.

genre: what genre do you prefer to write in?

Romance and humor.

narrator: what pov do you like writing in best?

Third person past tense. Present tense can be fun too but it’s much harder.

backstory: how did you come to love writing?

In seventh grade we had a ‘writing café’ every Friday during class time where anyone who had written a poem or something could stand up and read it to the class. I was hooked the first time someone said they enjoyed something of mine and I realized that the stories and images in my head could be shared with other people.

time-lapse: how long have you been writing (as a hobby or for work)?

Poetry since seventh grade. Song lyrics since about ninth grade. Stories and fanfiction since ninth grade as well but only publishing them since around eleventh grade I think.

characterization: describe your favorite character(s) you’ve written.

Tobirama, Madara, and Kakashi are always my favorites to make the main character. Their emotions are always so fun to play with. Izuna is amazing to have as a side character because his personality is just super fun. I only have two OCs, both of whom really only appear in one piece each, but I love both Uchiha Susumu and Senju Rei.

carnegie: what authors and/or books/stories have inspired you to write or influenced your work?

David Eddings, favorite author.

faulkner: what tropes do you LOVE writing? which ones are your guilty pleasure?

Soulmates, OBVIOUSLY. Also characters who end up somehow being forced to sleep in the same bed as the person they are secretly in love with, I haven’t written tons of that but I have 85 ideas per day that revolve around it. Same situation for one person getting injured for another person and accidentally letting it slip that they’re in love as they fade to black (to of course wake up in a hospital very embarrassed). MUTUAL PINING. A/B/O is a fave, I need to write more for that. I legitimately have an entire list of tropes somewhere on here…

o’connor: what tropes/genres do you dislike writing?

I’m not great with mystery or anything political. I don’t particularly go wild for the whole “I saved you from a bad relationship and now you’re suddenly in love with me” thing. Cheating is not something I want to write about. Unhappy endings or just straight angst with no light at the end of the tunnel. Off the top of my head I can’t think of many tropes I don’t like but I know there are some.

dickinson: what insecurities do you have about your own writing? what do you think you should improve on?

Oh lots of things. I need to work on fleshing out more than just the relationship between the main love interests, to build the world around more than just them. I need to work on remembering the little subplots I hint at then never follow through with. Pacing. Foreshadowing, I always make things super obvious and I very rarely manage to surprise people with what happens next. Personally I see my story ideas as predictable so I’d like to come up with more daring plots or aus.

playlist: what kind of music/songs help you write? do you have a writing playlist?

I don’t listen to anything while I write, complete silence. If music helps me ever then it would be me hearing a song somewhere and thinking “this line or song would make a great fic”.

record: have you written things based off of songs? do you like to?

Dirty Work and Let’s Hurt Tonight were both written for specific songs and I wrote several songfics back when they were popular like a decade ago. Honestly I kind of miss them. They were super cheesy and often poorly executed but I’ve always been a fan of accidental confessions and using music to do that was always hilarious.

nobel: have you published anything you’ve written? online or irl?

Other than on fanfiction websites no.

notepad: can you write anywhere or do you have to be in a specific place and mood to write?

Anywhere there is enough quiet for me to concentrate, so long as I have something to type or write on.

parchment: how often do you or your personal life influence your writing?

Not particularly often.

dedication: if you were to publish a book or multiple, who would you dedicate the book(s) to?

My fiancé, the people who believed in me here first in fanfiction, and anyone who was a particular help while writing it.

trope: what’s a pet peeve you have about writing?

When I know exactly what I want to happen but the words just won’t come to me.

input: what’s something you hate that people say to you about writing/your writing?

I actually don’t like being compared to other writers. When someone tells me “this reminds me of a fic by so-and-so” it always makes me think “Okay but I’m not them. I’m me. So did you like this on its own merits or did you only like it because it made you think or someone else?” Also not a fan of when someone tells me that the characters would not have reacted a certain way or done a certain thing. Fanfiction is about each person’s interpretation of the characters. None of us are the actual author so none of us have the authority to be up in other people’s comments making them feel bad.

critic: what’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received about writing?

Stop worrying about whether people will like it. Make sure YOU like it. It will always flow more easily that way and there will always be a few people to enjoy the things you do.

mifflin: what do you feel is your strong suit in writing?

Writing emotions. I’m an emotional person, what can I say?

houghton: what’s something you love that people compliment your pieces on?

I love when they point out a specific turn of phrase they enjoyed or they pick out a specific small detail so I know the little things don’t go unnoticed. Really any compliment is incredible and very appreciated. Did you like the pacing? The characterization? The dialogue? Amazing, you have my whole heart for even mentioning one of those things.

[creativitytoexplore]

Everything Old Is New Again: An Interview With Co-Web Editor Adam Soto https://ift.tt/2WdSDbp

Writer and editor Adam Soto has long been a part of American Short Fiction‘s editorial team. As one of our assistant editors, he regularly read submission to the journal, wrote copious feedback for authors, and helped determine which stories would ultimately appear in our print edition. So, when we made the decision to bring on another web editor this spring, Adam was a natural choice for the role. This month, he joins our longtime web editor Erin McReynolds as our website’s co-editor, and together, they’ll determine which stories are published here at ASF Online. I recently emailed with Soto to ask about his work, his approach to editing, and his aspirations for the magazine.

—

Nate Brown: Adam, we’re so thrilled that after having served as an assistant editor with us for so long that you’re stepping up to the plate as a new web editor who’ll be working alongside web editor Erin McReynolds. While we know you around these parts—you’ve been a member of Austin’s literary community and of our team for years—I want to start by asking you about your own fiction writing. You’ve got a novel coming out next year. Can you tell us a bit about it?

Adam Soto: Joining ASF was one of the first things I did after coming to Austin, and it’s really been like being part of a family, so I’m really grateful for all the time I’ve had with organization, all the stories I’ve read through the years, and I’m really moved to have the opportunity to contribute more to what the journal is doing, which is something special. 

The novel is called This Weightless World, and it’s out on MCD/FSG fall 2021. It’s a sentimental sci-fi, a kind of Contact for misanthropic millennials. January 1, 2012, Earth detects an alien signal from a planet 75 lightyears away and a group of characters—a Chicago Public School teacher; one of his students, a musical prodigy; and his ex, a programmer who dumped him for a gig at Google—anticipate a major paradigm shift, an alternative to late stage capitalism, the neighborhood’s cycle of violence, an escape from their own personal guilt. I mean, aliens are supposed to be game changers, right? Habit, human nature, laziness, and fear, however, prove to be a greater obstacle than the 75 lightyears between us and them, and when the planet suddenly falls silent, leaving us alone in the universe once again, collapsing the distance between who we are and who we hope to be feels harder than ever. While the characters sort out their lives, our planet’s biological clock keeps ticking, our dependence on technology distorts our sense of reality, and our most vulnerable continue going mostly ignored. If all of that sounds too depressing, I should add that there are also loving pen-pal letters and lyrical dispatches from deep space woven throughout.    

NB: It’s funny, Adam, but I remember you from back in your Iowa City days, when you and my wife, Thea, were MFA students at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. Was this a project you were working on back then, or is the novel more recent than that? And how does the novel compare to the work you were writing then? 

AS: I remember the two of you as well. I started the novel on January 1, 2012, so, right before the start of my last semester at Iowa. Marilynne Robinson was going to be teaching a novel workshop in the spring, we’d all been in a novella seminar with Peter Orner, so all of my friends had suddenly pivoted from writing short stories to writing novels, and I thought, I wanna get me some of that!

I was staying with my parents for the holidays, and I had a dream featuring an image and a wordless interpretation. I saw this fuchsia-colored planet and felt that not only I but the whole human race was being shunned and shamed by it, like the planet was Earth’s twin and we just weren’t going to be friends. With absolutely nothing else to go on, I set up my laptop in my parent’s kitchen, took a look around the room, and typed the first thing that came to mind. “So, this dude wakes up on Jan. 1, 2012…” Most of my work, up to that point, had focused on alienating readers. They were mainly plotless, kind of nihilistic, and tried really hard to redeem themselves with lots of catchy sentences. It had never occurred to me that I could cut back on my affect and keep alienation as subject matter. It took me three whole drafts (re-written, top to bottom) and four years to figure out what the story was about, three years working with my amazing agent, Marya Spence, to turn an 800+ page sprawling tome into an actual novel, and it’ll be another year and a half before my editor, Danny Vazquez, and the rest of the team at MCD/ FSG and I turn it over to the public.

NB: Did you have any particularly great workshops or instructors at Iowa? What ideas about writing have stuck with you? And for those considering an MFA program, do you have any advice on what they should expect to take away from the experience? 

AS: My very first workshop there was with the late James Alan McPherson. He was so funny, sage, and generous, and my workshop group became my best friends. Peter Orner was also very inspiring. He taught me a lot about teaching and reading. Teaching and writing were the natural byproducts of reading and paying attention to others for Peter, and this has proven vital to me as a middle-school English teacher. Michelle Huneven, however, changed my life. The way I saw it, I was just this kid who got into this really nice writing program for one reason or another, but, somehow, Michelle took me seriously and told me to take myself seriously. There’s no shortage of people taking themselves seriously in MFA programs, so, I guess my advice is to expect to find something out about yourself. A lot of people find out they don’t like teaching; hell, some people find out they don’t like writing that much, at least not enough to spend the rest of their lives trying to get published. Either way, no matter your age, or where you’re coming from, you’ve got to let the MFA years be formative in some way.

Back in the day, there used to be this expectation that you could join a program and graduate with a book deal, or at least a “cushy” teaching gig that’d hold you off until you got a book deal, and because it was more of a rite of passage, these programs could get away with being deeply unfeeling. I felt nurtured and supported, but I know a lot of people who didn’t and who don’t. But I think if everyone comes in expecting more, and if everyone is willing to accept that that something more probably isn’t going to be more book deals—taking on publishing is a whole other nightmare—then I think a lot of the criticisms of MFA programs could be addressed, and not just by faculty and directors but by the student communities that hold them accountable. Because there’s no real promise for what you can expect, especially from program to program, until you start laying out those expectations. For starters, funding and diversity.

NB: In addition to writing, a big part of editorial work is reading submissions. What kind of work grabs you? What excites you? What do you love coming across in submissions? 

AS: I like something that commits. Something that assures me that it wants to tell me something, even if it’s reluctant to, even if it fails to. Commitment is huge. To voice, a structural procedure, a deep study of character, a memory being pulled apart, a woolgathering.  

NB: Our web exclusive stories have long been capped at 2,000 words (though this is changing), and I’m wondering what you think the short form—whatever you may call them: flash fiction, micro fiction, short-shorts—offer that longer works do not? What are the advantages of really short work?  

AS: Whenever I get a new album, I always start with listening to the longest song. With short story collections, I always start with the shortest story. This is something I’ve done forever. Whatever they’re called, I’ve always been attracted to these brief things, and, over the years, reading them, writing them, I’ve come to appreciate their different intended effects. You read one of Babel’s Red Cavalry Stories and the story’s length isn’t really the first thing you notice. Similar to your feelings after a shorty by Chekhov, you’re struck by the wholeness of the experience, the funny asymmetry, the dropped details—as in the details the writer does and does not drop. Compare that to a sprint by Thomas Bernhard, one of Lydia Davis’s illuminating punchlines, or a haunting by Peter Orner, and I think you get a mixture of dedications to singular things, which is rare in our Wikipedic, FOMA world. And the fact that that one thing can be so many different things—grief’s manipulation of time, light’s impression on a memory, an anecdote, extensive alliteration—is really a gift. Such dedication taken to greater lengths is often awkward or dull until it ventures into the obsessive and becomes genius again.      

NB: Are there writers whose stories you find yourself returning to over time? If so, who are those folks, and which stories do you think demand re-reading? 

AS: Mavis Gallant, constantly, and especially her early and long story “The Cost of Living.” I love that long story for its failure to commit, for dragging out what it means to say for pages and pages, for pretty much being a 36-page novel. Leonard Michaels’s Nachman stories and his list story “In the Fifties.” Anything from Joy Williams’s Escapes, but especially “White” over and over again. Andrey Platonov’s “The Motherland of Electricity” (it teaches you how to build a generator), James Alan McPherson’s “The Silver Bullet,” and, more recently, Sara Majka’s “Saint Andrews Hotel,” “Especially Heinous” by Carmen Maria Machado, and Brandon Taylor’s ASF story, “As Though That Were Love.”  

NB: Jesus, there’s so much good work in there. That Brandon Taylor story has really stayed with me. I taught it at Johns Hopkins last semester, and it made a couple of students (and me) cry. Taylor has so much to say about loneliness and the unbridgeable spaces that exist between people, even those who are dear friends. Come to think of it, the Williams, McPherson, and Majka stories you mention are sort of about that, too. Would you say that the tension between isolation and collectivity, between personal spaces and social spaces are of interest to you? Based on what you’ve said about your own novel, that seems central in that work, too.  

AS: Yes, definitely, definitely, the isolated and the collective, isolated collectives, and, now that we’re all getting a taste, the collectively isolated. And that tension, too, I think you’re right, between the singular and the collective, I’ve always been fascinated by where it pops up, how places and moments of intimacy can leave us feeling so isolated, how fractured our alliances and coalitions can be, how hard it is to come together behind a common goal. But most of all, over the years I’ve become obsessed with characters who, against their better judgment, still seek community, and I’m really attracted to the tensions that arise when those seekers interrogate their intentions or test the authenticity of their communities. One of the unique features of our world today is our ability to not only witness but quantifiably measure the efforts being made by ourselves and others as we vie for each other’s communion—it’s something both beautiful and grotesque. And that reality really takes the characters in TWW for a ride, from pulling them out of their recessional depression to overloading them with worldly concerns to leaving them feel completely isolated. 

NB: American Short Fiction has been around since 1991. Why do you think that journals like ours—large and small, from all parts of the country and the world—abide? What role do you think we play in the broader literary culture, and has that role changed over time? 

AS: Like the few healthy corners of the internet, lit journals are places for spaceless communities, folks looking for a common thing; in our case, a certain flavor of fiction. With every issue, you’re excited to share in the discovery of someone new, eager to read someone familiar, and happy to sustain the practice of an old art form. And before the internet, and now through the internet, lit journals have always offered deeply reflective but also relatively immediate reactions to the worlds we live in, which is something I’m excited to play a part in as a web editor. As a utility, we broaden the spectrum of representation in culture, and although our nets require wider and wider casting, what we discover here increases the expectations we have for other literary institutions, as well as the world at large. 

    Adam Soto is a co-web editor at American Short Fiction. He holds an MFA from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop and is a former Michener-Copernicus Foundation fellow. He lives with his wife in Austin, TX, where he is a teacher and a musician. His debut novel, This Weightless World, is forthcoming from MCD/ FSG fall 2021.