Dreams And Reality — Becoming the Oil and the Wine

via Dreams And Reality — Becoming the Oil and the Wine

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Have the Courage to Say No and Manage Your Priorities #inspiration #motivation — POTL: All Things Books, Reading and Publishing

Do you feel like your life is one big to-do list? Just when you think you have everything done, something else pops up? It’s time we got our priorities straight. The #1 rule in time management is figuring out what are the highest priorities and saying “no” to the rest. I know how it’s difficult to […]

via Have the Courage to Say No and Manage Your Priorities #inspiration #motivation — POTL: All Things Books, Reading and Publishing

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Embracing Every Version of Myself

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Carmen Welsh on Defending My Genre

This is a writer’s story. During her MFA schooling, Carmen Welsh had an experience where she had to defend her genre. It was an unusual one, a furry genre. Other writers and advisers didn’t totally understand. They wanted to change it and make it into something that fit their own preconceived notions.

But, this is more than a story of Carmen defending her genre. It’s a tale of a woman standing strong, and being true to herself – not giving into the pressures of others to conform to the ideas that they had.

Isn’t that something we all need to do? We need to know ourselves, our own inner desires, dreams and ambitions, and to remain steadfast and true to our hearts. This doesn’t only go for women. Women and men both need to apply this to their lives.

Carmen Welsh is a multi-talented writer and artist. This guest blog recently posted on Writer’s Zen and Trisha Faye. We’re re-posting today on Embracing Life Tribe to share this story with others. Join Carmen as she tells about an experience she had during her MFA program. See how she handled the dilemma and how she defended her genre with strength and professionalism.

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DEFENDING MY GENRE

In the MFA program, before each semester, we must submit a 25-page manuscript. The reason for this is so we can, during the then days on the university campus, workshop that particular piece.

In the entire MFA student body, all three genres are usually represented: fiction, poetry, and creative nonfiction. Many come from other states as well as other nations. Most of the student body stayed in hotels or university-sanctioned inns during the ten days. Our workshop classes consisted of four to six students on average. Each class taught by a mentor according to the workshop students’ genre.

In this third semester, we were all female, including our mentor. As somebody who started out in childhood with mostly male friends, because many female peers weren’t into comics, video games, and/or drawing super-heroes/super-sheroes if one was in art class. I remember classmates during grade school who often acted mean to me or any girl that did not fit a certain mold.

However, as an adult, I have since ended up with friends nearly split down the middle, gender-wise. I went along with the sisterhood hype of my graduate school friends and workshop buddies.

Perhaps it would be a good thing for once to be in an all-female group, I thought the first week.

The first few days involved discussing what we each had written/submitted by email and feedback we received from each classmate. Most of my feedback made sense, sounded intuitive, and, during the feedback sessions when the writer must remain silent, I took a lot of notes. I made many changes to the writing.

It was probably by the second week I began to get a sense the mentor wasn’t exactly on board with my story. Not with its ideas, just the overall existence of it. I can’t say what those social cues were because they ran as an undercurrent within her feedback and constructive criticism.

One of my classmates, who didn’t know me well at the time, seemed to side with the mentor. Two of my classmates that did know me and knew my writing beforehand because they both read my blog, defended the draft.

Each day in workshop, I began to feel more and more uncomfortable. It wasn’t even the nervousness of work-shopping my prose baby, it was an inkling of disapproval. As if I shouldn’t be using such a literary device.

Eventually, I didn’t feel confident in approaching the mentor. I seemed to receive a sense she wouldn’t listen even if I wanted to discuss my concerns. I panicked because I was in my third term, a pun-intended critical time as this would be when all third-semester students worked on a Critical Essay, a precursor to writing one’s thesis. I wondered if I might have to drop out this term. I couldn’t picture this mentor assisting me on such a crucial paper, not with the way she reacted to what would become my Master Thesis. My confidence in the mentor fell each time her comments about my draft meant more on changing it completely rather than fixing it. I wondered if I might have to take an extra term to graduate.

I went to the program director and asked if I could speak with him. At the end of the day, back in my hotel room, I emailed him a professional rant. The next day, right after morning seminar, I approached the director and he took me aside. He explained that he must get the mentor’s side of the story, which was fair. He also explained that because we were all writers (the entire faculty are professional authors in different genres), we tended to overreact when it came to criticism. His friendly and teasing manner put me at ease but I still worried about the mentor’s reaction.

During workshop, my insides felt in knots and crumbled pieces. When workshop finished for lunch, the mentor asked me to stay behind. My friend from our first semester together, looked back at me with worry. I thought, and I think she did too, that this felt a lot like detention. I made sure I remained as calm as I could.

The mentor lit into me. She was annoyed I actually ‘went behind her back to speak to the director when I should have come to her first’. I was angered. I am almost forty. I was done being talked down to. She continued her tirade that if I couldn’t handle constructive criticism, how far would I go as a writer? That’s when I stopped her and explained that I have a number of publications to my belt and have attended writing workshops since the late 90’s. I understood the model, how it worked, and that many of those classes had taught me plenty about the business of writing.

Those early ideas to take my writing seriously were given to me first by a caring English professor who directed me to my first Creative Writing professor. I never thought it could become a career choice. I didn’t even know that “furry” was a genre!

The mentor wanted me to change everyone in my story to human, including my male protagonist, but to keep only my female protagonist as a canine! She also explained that from the dog’s POV, she could observe human behavior from a distance. I told the mentor that wouldn’t work because there was supposed t\ be a romantic involvement between both protagonists and how would that look if she remained a dog and he was now a human? I told her I didn’t write those things and I didn’t want to be known as THAT kind of writer.

“But you won’t find an audience unless you change it! People will think this story is for children!”
“Not true. I thought of my stories as a hobby. But a professor changed my thinking when she encouraged me to continue to write these kinds of stories and to find the markets for it.”

“And did you find that market?” she asked.

“I did! Because rejection after rejection, I finally found my first publisher in September 1999.”

I told the mentor that once I began to navigate freelance writing did I learn there was a market, a genre called “Anthro” or Furry. Because of this market, I found a fandom that would embrace my writings. That would respond to my art work.

“There is an adult audience for this genre!” I said. “And I’ve worked with editors. I knowhow to take criticism. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be published!”

“But I just wanted you to change the premise to science fiction!”

“I love SF and Fantasy. I love the film The Secret of NIMH and read the book it’s based on:Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH. I also watched several versions of The Island of Dr. Moreau. I tried having humans and dogs coexist within this story and though that might work for my other stories, it didn’t work in this one. Believe me, that was the first draft! I tried and the story just wouldn’t work. Once I removed the humans is when the story hit its stride for the first time.”

I gave her the abridged version about this novel as an idea I came up with back in sixth grade summer school. If after all those years, I have been working on this project on and off, don’t you think I have tried different ways and writing styles to tell this story? The more the mentor asked questions and the more I explained my position did I see her expression change from anger to disappointment to realization to understanding.

I also told the mentor that not only did I learn about a genre and fandom I didn’t know existed, but, I also joined a writer’s guild where all the members write in this genre (Shameless plug for the Furry Writers’ Guild) and that I have been a member for almost five years.

“You’re part of a guild?” she asked.

“Yep.”

Her face changed. “Every writer needs a community.”

“And I found mine.” I said.

Lunchtime was an hour and my mentor now showed a renewed interest in my story. We went to lunch together. The more I explained why I wanted my story in the historical genre is when she began to ask me the right questions and give me the right feedback. We discussed what book lists I should annotate.

The program director later told me in private, “I see you two made up. See? You were overreacting.”

When I presented my idea for a critical essay about Aesop influencing anthropomorphism, the mentor approved the topic.

But when friends in the program (many I later graduated with in 2015) asked what happened, they became angrier than I felt. They understood the mentor’s earlier ideas would have undone the entire premise for my thesis. My family was also angry, as well as coworkers and my supervisor, all of whom had read chapters here and there from the fledgling draft and were familiar with my body of work.

Upon finishing the ten days and returning to my job, my supervisor wanted me to tell her the whole story. Her expression agog, she said, “I don’t think I could’ve been as calm as you. Oh my G*d, you went Julia Sugarbaker on her!” I laughed at the Designing Women reference.

UPDATE: A chapter from the manuscript has been published as the short story “Night Sounds” in the literary journal Prick of the Spindle Issue # 9. It’s available not only on its official website but on Amazon.com in print and as an e-book. Carmen Welsh plans to polish the completed manuscript this year.

Carmen Welsh holds an AA in Art Education, a BSc in Web Design, and a MFA in Creative Writing. She’s published short stories, illustrations, essays, and articles in fanzines, e-zines, online journals, and in print journals. She’s an official member of theAssociation of Writers & Writing Programs (AWP) as well as the Furry Writers’ Guild. Four out-of-print stories became podcasts or reprinted. Her latest short story is “Night Sounds” published in Prick of the Spindle.

Her official website is http://TabbertheRed.com. Carmen’s publication’s list is onhttp://TheAngryGoblin.wordpress.com. Her art portfolio is “CopperSphinx” on DeviantArt.

Prick of the Spindle – Kindle edition

Prick of the Spindle – print edition

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Embracing My Inner Wild Child

The coolest people I’ve ever met have the most colorful pasts. They’ve lived lives of risk, made bad choices, learned lessons, explored, and they’re not afraid of being real. Tattered tapestries woven of similar threads, they’re my kind of people – my favorite shades of crazy.

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One of our friends fits this description. Carla is a lady that you’d put at the top of the page of your ‘Wild and Crazy Friends’ list. Every outing we have with her is filled with hilarity. We laugh till our sides ache.

Carla is real. She’s one of the ‘What you see is what you get’ people. Carla on her most subdued day is probably more outgoing, and yes, a bit louder, than I ever am on my most rambunctious day. I’ll be the first to proclaim that everyone is different, with different personalities, strengths and attributes. I believe that with my whole being. But still, there’s some moments where I’d like to be just a bit more colorful.

For me the test is to love and appreciate my own qualities, while still striving to weave a few delightful strands of bright color into the tapestry of my life.

Where are you on this spectrum? Is your life one filled with various shades of crazy? Or do you need to learn to embrace your inner wild child and let go of a little touch of craziness?

Affirmation:
I embrace adding bits of colorful craziness to my life, while remaining true to who I am.

(Excerpt from Spoonful of Sugar, scheduled for release October 2016)

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Have you had a long, hard week of writing? Things not going so well? Maybe you need a little bit of a nudge, or a hug? I think as writers we should all be supporting and encouraging each other, so in that spirit, I’m going to devote today’s post to some cheerleading. I’ll start at […]

via Friday Encouragement — Megan Morgan

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Embracing the Nap

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Sometimes the lessons we can learn are from our pets. Meet Puddles. Puddles loves her naps. In any position. She embraces her naps with a passion. Now, I like a good nap now and then myself. But I don’t throw myself into my naps with quite the abandon she does.

Maybe there’s something I can learn from this little furry one.

This was Puddles a few months ago, when she was in her ‘pole cat’ disguise.

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