As my blog readers know, I attended the Southeastern Writer's Conference last month and got a bit of a shock. Miss Stephanie and--godforbid--Edward flipping Cullen did far more for me than I ever could have dreamed.

The industry is in a sad condition right now. That is undeniable. Agent in Residence Mollie Glick gave a speech about her job as a literary agent and revealed that a large part of it is keeping up with editors. Not only are editors moving and shuffling around between publishers and houses these days, they're dropping like flies. Entire branches and houses are getting cut off.

It's dark.

Apparently, Borders booksellers has nearly gone bankrupt several times within the past year and have survived by a miracle. (I'm very interested in this situation and there may be a post about it soon.) Without a doubt, the disappearance of a major booksellers would be disastrous to the industry. E-books would probably take off, boosting the printed word toward an obsolete state.

How do you break in when things are this bad? Where is the hope?

1. Okay. Competition is high. It's always been high. Relatively, it's not that much of a difference.


2. One market is still booming. One genre is easier than ever to break into. Respect for it is growing, and its popularity is wonderful. This is the Young Adult market, especially Fantasy. My market.

Four people--Emily Sue Harvey, Cheryl Norman, Mollie Glick, and Holly McClure--all remarked on how well the YA market is doing at the conference last month. About a week after it ended, I was in a bookstore, and I asked an employee if she was familiar with the YA section and if she could tell me what was selling best. She pointed to a few titles, naming one I'd never heard of (which made it all the more beneficial to me). "Anything to do with vampires, witches, or fairies. Actually," she said, pausing, "that's most of what we get coming through here right now."

I almost cried.

If you're a young adult fantasy writer, now is the time to step up and shoot for it. Despite the economic downturn, we are the ones who have been empowered. And it's probably all thanks to Miss Stephanie Meyer and Mr. Edward Cullen!

As my blog readers know, I attended the Southeastern Writer's Conference last month and got a bit of a shock. Miss Stephanie and--godforbid--Edward flipping Cullen did far more for me than I ever could have dreamed.

The industry is in a sad condition right now. That is undeniable. Agent in Residence Mollie Glick gave a speech about her job as a literary agent and revealed that a large part of it is keeping up with editors. Not only are editors moving and shuffling around between publishers and houses these days, they're dropping like flies. Entire branches and houses are getting cut off.

It's dark.

Apparently, Borders booksellers has nearly gone bankrupt several times within the past year and have survived by a miracle. (I'm very interested in this situation and there may be a post about it soon.) Without a doubt, the disappearance of a major booksellers would be disastrous to the industry. E-books would probably take off, boosting the printed word toward an obsolete state.

How do you break in when things are this bad? Where is the hope?

1. Okay. Competition is high. It's always been high. Relatively, it's not that much of a difference.


2. One market is still booming. One genre is easier than ever to break into. Respect for it is growing, and its popularity is wonderful. This is the Young Adult market, especially Fantasy. My market.

Four people--Emily Sue Harvey, Cheryl Norman, Mollie Glick, and Holly McClure--all remarked on how well the YA market is doing at the conference last month. About a week after it ended, I was in a bookstore, and I asked an employee if she was familiar with the YA section and if she could tell me what was selling best. She pointed to a few titles, naming one I'd never heard of (which made it all the more beneficial to me). "Anything to do with vampires, witches, or fairies. Actually," she said, pausing, "that's most of what we get coming through here right now."

I almost cried.

If you're a young adult fantasy writer, now is the time to step up and shoot for it. Despite the economic downturn, we are the ones who have been empowered. And it's probably all thanks to Miss Stephanie Meyer and Mr. Edward Cullen!

I thought I'd blog a little about what's going on in my own life today and update everybody on how my dreams are going. =) I attended the SWA Conference a few weeks ago, which I blogged about. I repeat:  This conference is an IDEAL beginner experience.

Thanks to this experience, my manuscript is in the hands of a literary agent I like very very much. Keeping my fingers crossed. We'll see.

The last few days, I've been outlining Sunlight, the sequel to Sunrise. No, I'm not completely satisfied with that title. Bubbles would be more appropriate, but it sounds too much. like the name of a poodle. Le sigh. I think I'm going to start updating my second book's word count on my blog just to add some accountability.

At the SWA Conference this year, I also got a definition for that mysterious thing I've been hearing about called Dragoncon--it's an anime convention, a writer's conference, and a sci-fi/fantasy convention combined.

Can you say My Paradise? How cool is that

It must be humongous. Apparently there are even something like 1500 registered Storm Troopers in Atlanta. My little brother wants to register and keep his helmet in his car so he can put it on whenever he sees a state trooper

I'm going. =D At least, I've got some of my anime friends interested, not to mention my Star Wars-fanatic parents. (Which might be an Oops....)

That's the general past, present, and future of the moment though. I'll keep everyone updated.

More soon <3

Word count:  4000

I thought I'd blog a little about what's going on in my own life today and update everybody on how my dreams are going. =) I attended the SWA Conference a few weeks ago, which I blogged about. I repeat:  This conference is an IDEAL beginner experience.

Thanks to this experience, my manuscript is in the hands of a literary agent I like very very much. Keeping my fingers crossed. We'll see.

The last few days, I've been outlining Sunlight, the sequel to Sunrise. No, I'm not completely satisfied with that title. Bubbles would be more appropriate, but it sounds too much. like the name of a poodle. Le sigh. I think I'm going to start updating my second book's word count on my blog just to add some accountability.

At the SWA Conference this year, I also got a definition for that mysterious thing I've been hearing about called Dragoncon--it's an anime convention, a writer's conference, and a sci-fi/fantasy convention combined.

Can you say My Paradise? How cool is that

It must be humongous. Apparently there are even something like 1500 registered Storm Troopers in Atlanta. My little brother wants to register and keep his helmet in his car so he can put it on whenever he sees a state trooper

I'm going. =D At least, I've got some of my anime friends interested, not to mention my Star Wars-fanatic parents. (Which might be an Oops....)

That's the general past, present, and future of the moment though. I'll keep everyone updated.

More soon <3

Word count:  4000

Another wonderful experience from the Southeastern Writers Association Conference last week.

Let me start by making a little fun of myself. Last year at the SWA Conference I'm pretty sure I was ~scared out of my wits.~ The entire time I felt completely out of my depth and overwhelmed but at the same time inspired and determined any kicking, spitting mule you'd like to imagine.

I was also awkward as hell.

This year my awkwardness had dropped dramatically from their previous As Hell levels. Thanks to a great shift in attitude and the experience Model UN gave me, I've actually finally learned how to talk.

I realized I'd changed a bit when I found myself sitting next to Chuck Sambuchino, one of the biggest names there, the first night of the conference--and he was teaching me to play Poker.

I still can't say I'd be able to win if I sat down at a Poker table now. No, I'm afraid I definitely would not have the confidence to engage in any alternate forms of the game. Cough. But I did pick the gist of it up and when I started making decisions we started winning. Of course, the stakes weren't high. It was also fun watch Mr. Sambuchino dramatically slap down an immense bet of 50 cents.

My mad Poker skillz aren't the only thing I picked up from him last week, however. Even though he had to leave the conference Wednesday morning, he taught four classes:  Screenwriting, Nonfiction, Business of the Business - Agent Focus, and Business of the Business - Editor Focus.

I have notes on all the classes, but I have a TON of screenwriting stuff. They'll definitely fill a post or two in the future. I enjoyed the classes and liked Mr. Sambuchino's teaching style. He's laid back and very open to questions. He makes jokes and laughs at the business and himself. He also played the piano before class--medleys including Coldplay's Speed of Sound and Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit.

I'm sorry. That's awesome. As an eighteen-year-old, I find it simply epic. =)

I'd highly recommend Mr. Sambuchino as a class instructor--and the good news is he's going to be teaching at the South Carolina Writer's Workshop at Myrtle Beach in October! Hopefully his classroom will have a piano.

Another wonderful experience from the Southeastern Writers Association Conference last week.

Let me start by making a little fun of myself. Last year at the SWA Conference I'm pretty sure I was ~scared out of my wits.~ The entire time I felt completely out of my depth and overwhelmed but at the same time inspired and determined any kicking, spitting mule you'd like to imagine.

I was also awkward as hell.

This year my awkwardness had dropped dramatically from their previous As Hell levels. Thanks to a great shift in attitude and the experience Model UN gave me, I've actually finally learned how to talk.

I realized I'd changed a bit when I found myself sitting next to Chuck Sambuchino, one of the biggest names there, the first night of the conference--and he was teaching me to play Poker.

I still can't say I'd be able to win if I sat down at a Poker table now. No, I'm afraid I definitely would not have the confidence to engage in any alternate forms of the game. Cough. But I did pick the gist of it up and when I started making decisions we started winning. Of course, the stakes weren't high. It was also fun watch Mr. Sambuchino dramatically slap down an immense bet of 50 cents.

My mad Poker skillz aren't the only thing I picked up from him last week, however. Even though he had to leave the conference Wednesday morning, he taught four classes:  Screenwriting, Nonfiction, Business of the Business - Agent Focus, and Business of the Business - Editor Focus.

I have notes on all the classes, but I have a TON of screenwriting stuff. They'll definitely fill a post or two in the future. I enjoyed the classes and liked Mr. Sambuchino's teaching style. He's laid back and very open to questions. He makes jokes and laughs at the business and himself. He also played the piano before class--medleys including Coldplay's Speed of Sound and Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit.

I'm sorry. That's awesome. As an eighteen-year-old, I find it simply epic. =)

I'd highly recommend Mr. Sambuchino as a class instructor--and the good news is he's going to be teaching at the South Carolina Writer's Workshop at Myrtle Beach in October! Hopefully his classroom will have a piano.

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.