Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Because I understand that there is no money to be made in poetry (except the occasionally $30 contest award) I'm going to post my poem, The Opposite of War. Last week it got 2nd place in the Smith Moseley Award for Poetry at the SWA conference =) It's about the World Scout Jamboree in 2007.

The Opposite of War





I’ve lost my accent somewhere.
Maybe I dropped in the Thames,
or it fell victim to a ghost of the Tower,
or a Windsor swan plucked it from my fingers like bread,
but I hope it was swallowed, drowned,
trampled by polished boots
during the changing of the palace guard
because I have never felt so screamingly blended
and whole. I could never find it anyway
in this seek-and-flutter of color—
Skin like rice and beans and bread,
Vegetarian choices and tea.

And the uniforms:
A modern exotic salad,
with British, American, Norwegian, Polish, Korean,
iceberg khaki,
Japanese spinach leaves, curly banana crisps,
topped with Malaysian mangoes,
Chilean blueberries,
rich German raspberries,
a sprig of French Parsley,
and fruits and seeds like stagelights
all topped with white summer light for a dressing.

One line seemed universal:
"Where are you from?"
One line in London streets,
Roman exhibits, and the Queen’s roses
threaded with bees,
echoed later when tears fell from beneath
a cowboy hat
onto a lotus flower—
and though we never closed at night,
the wedges of our worlds
unfurled and overlapped,
tied with “Where are you from?”

And the Prince sliced chocolate cake for us with his helicopter,
golden dragons slithered from camp to camp,
business cards fluttered everywhere like leaves.
We did more than I can list.
We ran mountains with metal slides,
built catapults, rang church bells,
painted, planted, traded, sailed.
But mostly we danced
in every language.

Forty thousand of us—
dancing to O-zone,
cursing at vending machines,
and arguing about African education—
from 216 countries
all over the Earth—
each with a different view
of God above it
and Satan inside it—
We babbled about the falling ame
and family.

I’d never felt, heard, eaten so many wonders—
and I’d never seen a gentleman cry like that,
screaming through the arms around him
that she was a blond half-Asian.
She had died in his arms four months before.

In the thick and thesis of our new summary of earth,
we were reminded of things that fall away.
And did soldiers guide us all here by the hands,
disappear so that we could curse at vending machines
as one world, one family?
Because if the World Wars
The Trail of Tears, the Boxer Rebellion,
The Rape of Nanking, the Ravage of Africa,
The Russian Starvations--

And if
Iraq

Darfur, Sudan

Georgia, Europe

Mumbai, India

The Gaza Strip

If these things wound and kill,
our many colors
evoke life with their vividness
life that manifests as stop-and-go conga lines
neckerchiefs of many signatures
international flirtation.
They keep it safe
by sealing it in pictures that steal souls
and snatching business cards straight out of the wind.
Our blending colors heal and keep alive.
Because I understand that there is no money to be made in poetry (except the occasionally $30 contest award) I'm going to post my poem, The Opposite of War. Last week it got 2nd place in the Smith Moseley Award for Poetry at the SWA conference =) It's about the World Scout Jamboree in 2007.

The Opposite of War





I’ve lost my accent somewhere.
Maybe I dropped in the Thames,
or it fell victim to a ghost of the Tower,
or a Windsor swan plucked it from my fingers like bread,
but I hope it was swallowed, drowned,
trampled by polished boots
during the changing of the palace guard
because I have never felt so screamingly blended
and whole. I could never find it anyway
in this seek-and-flutter of color—
Skin like rice and beans and bread,
Vegetarian choices and tea.

And the uniforms:
A modern exotic salad,
with British, American, Norwegian, Polish, Korean,
iceberg khaki,
Japanese spinach leaves, curly banana crisps,
topped with Malaysian mangoes,
Chilean blueberries,
rich German raspberries,
a sprig of French Parsley,
and fruits and seeds like stagelights
all topped with white summer light for a dressing.

One line seemed universal:
"Where are you from?"
One line in London streets,
Roman exhibits, and the Queen’s roses
threaded with bees,
echoed later when tears fell from beneath
a cowboy hat
onto a lotus flower—
and though we never closed at night,
the wedges of our worlds
unfurled and overlapped,
tied with “Where are you from?”

And the Prince sliced chocolate cake for us with his helicopter,
golden dragons slithered from camp to camp,
business cards fluttered everywhere like leaves.
We did more than I can list.
We ran mountains with metal slides,
built catapults, rang church bells,
painted, planted, traded, sailed.
But mostly we danced
in every language.

Forty thousand of us—
dancing to O-zone,
cursing at vending machines,
and arguing about African education—
from 216 countries
all over the Earth—
each with a different view
of God above it
and Satan inside it—
We babbled about the falling ame
and family.

I’d never felt, heard, eaten so many wonders—
and I’d never seen a gentleman cry like that,
screaming through the arms around him
that she was a blond half-Asian.
She had died in his arms four months before.

In the thick and thesis of our new summary of earth,
we were reminded of things that fall away.
And did soldiers guide us all here by the hands,
disappear so that we could curse at vending machines
as one world, one family?
Because if the World Wars
The Trail of Tears, the Boxer Rebellion,
The Rape of Nanking, the Ravage of Africa,
The Russian Starvations--

And if
Iraq

Darfur, Sudan

Georgia, Europe

Mumbai, India

The Gaza Strip

If these things wound and kill,
our many colors
evoke life with their vividness
life that manifests as stop-and-go conga lines
neckerchiefs of many signatures
international flirtation.
They keep it safe
by sealing it in pictures that steal souls
and snatching business cards straight out of the wind.
Our blending colors heal and keep alive.

Monday, June 29, 2009

Website:  http://www.sullivanmaxx.com
Accept Mailed Proposals:  Coverletter, 1-P Synopsis, First Five Pages
Current Clients:  See Tags


Last week I attended the Southeastern Writers Conferences, and two representatives of the Sullivan Maxx Literary Agency visited. Ms. Holly McClure, a talented writer as well as an agent, spoke about the state of the publishing industry and motivated us to find advantages. She called the class The Empowered Author.

I loved it. It was an encouraging and positive experience. I understand how busy agents are, and I truly appreciated that she and her assistant agent Jeanie Pantelakis would come talk to a small room of publishing industry n00bs.

It didn't stop there, however--after the class got me more hyped and driven than any other I'd attended all week, I ran back to the room (where I should have changed out of the Incrediboy T-shirt) and grabbed my hard copy.

They ran a small session with those who had complete manuscripts and wanted to participate--and taught us how to pitch!

This was great for me, since these Elevator Pitch things make me very nervous. I'll share some of their advice soon. Running out of time for tonight. I just wanted to share the great experience with Sullivan Maxx literary agency and their generosity and enthusiasm.
Website:  http://www.sullivanmaxx.com
Accept Mailed Proposals:  Coverletter, 1-P Synopsis, First Five Pages
Current Clients:  See Tags


Last week I attended the Southeastern Writers Conferences, and two representatives of the Sullivan Maxx Literary Agency visited. Ms. Holly McClure, a talented writer as well as an agent, spoke about the state of the publishing industry and motivated us to find advantages. She called the class The Empowered Author.

I loved it. It was an encouraging and positive experience. I understand how busy agents are, and I truly appreciated that she and her assistant agent Jeanie Pantelakis would come talk to a small room of publishing industry n00bs.

It didn't stop there, however--after the class got me more hyped and driven than any other I'd attended all week, I ran back to the room (where I should have changed out of the Incrediboy T-shirt) and grabbed my hard copy.

They ran a small session with those who had complete manuscripts and wanted to participate--and taught us how to pitch!

This was great for me, since these Elevator Pitch things make me very nervous. I'll share some of their advice soon. Running out of time for tonight. I just wanted to share the great experience with Sullivan Maxx literary agency and their generosity and enthusiasm.

Friday, June 26, 2009

I went to the bookstore yesterday on a high from the conference. Never a good idea. Then again, I may singlehandedly save the industry at the rate I'm going.

I'm kidding. What I actually did was sit down with a HUMONGOUS stack of magazines. Like:

[caption id="attachment_30" align="aligncenter" width="321" caption="This. "]This. [/caption]

Except not that neat.

I looked over the entire back wall of a Books-A-Million and picked up anything that looked interesting to me. I picked up crochet magazines because I used to love to crochet. I picked up wedding magazines because I've had some pretty cool wedding stories in my life. I looked over film review magazines because that's something I want to learn how to do. I looked at horror magazines because that's a little like fantasy--but, as I decided, not much.

I flipped through to see which one took fictions and checked out a few other sections that I might like to write for. Then I picked a handful that seemed like the best winners for me (and my budget):

Writer's Journal
Realms of Fantasy
Writer's Digest
American Girl (which I've already discovered does not take fiction submissions)

I also picked up Otaku USA because I'm also running an anime review blog under a persona.

The final think I bought was The Waters and the Wild by Francesca Lia Block. Four things to say about that:

1. I want Jennifer Heuer to do my jacket cover.
2. The synopsis of this book grabbed me...and then I discovered it didn't do justice to the first chapter.
3. That name is too pretty to be real. It's either a pseudonym or the lady's parents are overpassionate.
4.  $17 is too much for that tiny hardback. I only bought it on a binge.
I went to the bookstore yesterday on a high from the conference. Never a good idea. Then again, I may singlehandedly save the industry at the rate I'm going.

I'm kidding. What I actually did was sit down with a HUMONGOUS stack of magazines. Like:

[caption id="attachment_30" align="aligncenter" width="321" caption="This. "]This. [/caption]

Except not that neat.

I looked over the entire back wall of a Books-A-Million and picked up anything that looked interesting to me. I picked up crochet magazines because I used to love to crochet. I picked up wedding magazines because I've had some pretty cool wedding stories in my life. I looked over film review magazines because that's something I want to learn how to do. I looked at horror magazines because that's a little like fantasy--but, as I decided, not much.

I flipped through to see which one took fictions and checked out a few other sections that I might like to write for. Then I picked a handful that seemed like the best winners for me (and my budget):

Writer's Journal
Realms of Fantasy
Writer's Digest
American Girl (which I've already discovered does not take fiction submissions)

I also picked up Otaku USA because I'm also running an anime review blog under a persona.

The final think I bought was The Waters and the Wild by Francesca Lia Block. Four things to say about that:

1. I want Jennifer Heuer to do my jacket cover.
2. The synopsis of this book grabbed me...and then I discovered it didn't do justice to the first chapter.
3. That name is too pretty to be real. It's either a pseudonym or the lady's parents are overpassionate.
4.  $17 is too much for that tiny hardback. I only bought it on a binge.
All right, I have to take this chance to recommend to all aspiring writers out there, if you're in the south, the Southeastern Writers Workshop is an ideal place to start. That's where I began my journey, and it has given me the boosts I need. I didn't understand why I needed to go to conferences, honestly, and I got much more than I bargained for.

On my record now are:
The SWA Juvenile Writing Award - 2nd place and $30
The Smith Moseley Poetry Award - 2nd place and $30
The M.L. Brown Award for YA Lit - 3rd place and $10 (2008) & 1st place and $50 (2009)!

So those cash prizes aren't extravagant, but the thing is those awards are perfect credentials for a query letter. If you want to be published, people, build them up!

The conference also gave me the chance to meet with Mollie Glick from Foundry Literary + Media and agents from Sullivan Literary Agency there on St. Simon's Island.

I'm going to be posting every day for the rest of the summer and quite often after that. Hold me to it, please! I don't mind nagging. =)

~Courtney
All right, I have to take this chance to recommend to all aspiring writers out there, if you're in the south, the Southeastern Writers Workshop is an ideal place to start. That's where I began my journey, and it has given me the boosts I need. I didn't understand why I needed to go to conferences, honestly, and I got much more than I bargained for.

On my record now are:
The SWA Juvenile Writing Award - 2nd place and $30
The Smith Moseley Poetry Award - 2nd place and $30
The M.L. Brown Award for YA Lit - 3rd place and $10 (2008) & 1st place and $50 (2009)!

So those cash prizes aren't extravagant, but the thing is those awards are perfect credentials for a query letter. If you want to be published, people, build them up!

The conference also gave me the chance to meet with Mollie Glick from Foundry Literary + Media and agents from Sullivan Literary Agency there on St. Simon's Island.

I'm going to be posting every day for the rest of the summer and quite often after that. Hold me to it, please! I don't mind nagging. =)

~Courtney