Simultaneous submissions

Sara Crowley2 Comments

There is a post at Literary Rejections On Display regarding the policy that many literary magazines have on not accepting simultaneous submissions. It is something I have been pondering now that I’m trying to be proactive and get my fiction out into the big wide world.

I am quite obedient, so when I see the rules of subs and they state that I have to agree to give them exclusivity on viewing, well, I abide by it. I send my precious piece in, and I wait to hear if they like it or not. If so, ace, if not, then I go to my next choice. Of course this means that if they respond quickly it’s fine, but not all magazines are so swift. Elimae  ♥ responded almost immediately with a rejection, and then with an acceptance, but they are the exception. I have been waiting a few months on responses for a couple of stories, and I may well wait a few more. In that time those stories are out of action, and in  all probability they aren’t sitting in a file having been read on receipt and now being considered, they are likely to be in a huge pile that one day someone will whizz through and send form rejections back on. 
So, let’s think this through, I have spent time and care writing something that I hope will be accepted by a magazine and published. Lots of these ‘zines do not pay me a penny for my work. I am meant to be grateful that they will display my words. I am grateful. But when they “sit” on my story for ages before tossing it back to me they are disrespecting me, and every other writer that they do that too. If I know from experience that a mag is likely to take its time, is it fair enough to send my work elsewhere too?
Apparently most writers do just that.

Writer’s Market UK 2009

Sara Crowley6 Comments

Writer’s Market commissioned me to write an article for their 2009 edition. (It was one of those exciting things I didn’t want to talk about in case I somehow jinxed it!) It has now been published and is available in all good bookshops ( Waterstones)

It was quite weird to go to work and see a pile of these in our reference section and know that I’m in it!

Tagged twice in one day, so it’s mememememememe

Sara Crowley7 Comments

I was tagged by Kirsty at Other Stories.

These are her rules:

  • Link to the person that tagged you – i.e. me.
  • Post the rules on your blog.
  • Write six random things about you in a blog post.
  • Tag six people in your post.
  • Let each person know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
  • Let the tagger know your entry is up.
So, being obedient here are my six random things.
1 – The first concert I ever went to was Barry Manilow at The Royal Albert Hall. 
2 – BBQ is my favoured flavour, and at the moment I am particularly partial to BBQ Snack-a-Jacks.
3 – I saw a ghost about six weeks ago, but because I don’t believe in ghosts I am trying not to think about it.
4 – I find it hard to write random facts about myself.
5 – I recently wore a different perfume for the first time in fifteen years (I usually wear Penhaligan’s Bluebell but bought Valentino’s Rock and Rose, crap name, rather lovely scent.) 
6 – I will never drive.
Right, so I tag six people and they will be:
On to memememememe 2
1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people, and acknowledge who tagged you.

Okay…hmm, well the nearest book is not one that I am reading as that is upstairs by my bed, and there’s another in the bathroom. Taking this incredibly literally I walk to my bookcase and pick up the book closest:

Granta – Best of British Novelists 2003 (I do have more current editions, but they aren’t so near.)

The Costa Pool Bums by Alan Warner

Page 123, fifth sentence says:

 “We leaned forward in the sky as the undercarriage and full flaps were rammed down. Our engine whined smartly and floated us briefly upwards.

The hazy air now revealed the uniform, dull sheen of the deep black Mediterranean visible between the drooped flaps; sun glazed the aluminium wing, its central wing duller and doubtless cheaper to produce than the frictionless boss of the dazzling leading edge.”


Which leads to yet more tagging.
I’m going to tag Pierre L, who doesn’t use his blog I don’t think? If he chooses he can post in the comments here (no escape!)
And

(Three K’s, has to be Kool, hahahah etc)

London peeps, there’s a very cool Pulp Net event on TONIGHT

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Were I able to organise baby-siting and so on I would be there with bells on (but without the bells, cos it’d be rude to be jingle jangling.)

 

tonight: Fiction at the Newsroom with James Meek & Gordon Burn

 

Authors James Meek and Gordon Burn have placed news at the heart of their current novels We Are Now Beginning Our Descent (Canongate) and Born Yesterday (Faber). Tonight they read short sections from and talk about the writing of their novels with Lane Ashfeldt, in the appropriate surrounds of the Newsroom.

“Gordon Burn is right. The news is now a novel” Mark Lawson

A small number of tickets will also be available on the door. Online ticket sales.

When: Wed 23 April, 6.45pm.

Where: Newsroom, the Guardian and Observer Archive and Visitor Centre, 
60 Farringdon Road, London EC1R 3GA. Map

A Pulp Net event in association with the Newsroom, Faber and Canongate

Doors open to the Newsroom gallery exhibition 6.30pm – a retrospective of photojournalism by Guardian photographer Don McPhee.

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Shit

Sara Crowley4 Comments
I keep reading shit. It is unintentional, I don’t seek it out. I read it and think, that’s toss. 
It will be the winner of a very well respected competition, or a piece published in a literary magazine, or a book published to critical acclaim, and I always want it to be good. I want to be amazed, and moved, I want to read work that resonates. I want there to be greatness. But there isn’t. It’s shit. Average at best.
I write, and I want to wrench words from my soul and type them, communicate. I try, and that too is shit. It’s all shit.
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This is from…

Sara Crowley1 Comment

This is from Chicken and Pies

and comes via

Day of moustaches

Despondancy

I am wiped out and tired. It has been one of those long days at home that I hate. There has been raining and sleeting. The patterns are squashed against my windows. One of those long days at home and alone that I hate. There is very little light now in my flat; my sofa feels dull, it supports my wait. There is no sound in my flat. I am feeling just awful. My nose is running. I hear a noise that sounds like a scratching. In the corner of my floor there is a black garden beetle. Why is it in my flat? My flat is on the sixth floor of a building. There are no gardens anywhere near my flat. The beetle is very big for a beetle, I have never seen a beetle as big as this beetle. Its back is shining. I feel as though the beetle is going to start speaking to me any second. One second later the beetle starts to speak to me. It has a high pitched voice and is terrifying. It says, “You are boring. Why are you so boring, little man? You have never done anything that is worthwhile. You are a lazy and fat little man of no worth.” The beetle is right. That is one clever beetle. “You don’t have any hope. I hate you little man. Nothing you do has ever been good. Why don’t you say something back to me little man?” The beetle’s words are seriously hurting my feelings. I feel animosity towards the beetle. I look at the window and the rain, and the grey light. “Waster. You are a waster.” I tread on the beetle and sit back down.

POSTED BY SOCRATES ADAMS-FLOROU

Review of ‘The cellist of Sarajevo’ by Steven Galloway

Sara Crowley1 Comment

This is not a novel that I would have picked up if I hadn’t been asked to review it. I found both the brown blah cover and the title entirely uninviting, and the blurb did little to persuade me otherwise. It turns out though that this is a surprisingly engaging book. Once I began reading I was sucked in and mounting tensions kept me eagerly turning pages to find out more.

 

The story is fiction inspired by fact. The real cellist of Sarajevo is (according to Wiki) Vedran Smailović known as the “Cellist of Sarajevo”, a musician from Bosnia and Herzegovina. He played in the Sarajevo Opera, the Sarajevo Philharmonic Orchestra, The Symphony Orchestra ,TV Sarajevo, and The National Theatre of Sarajevo.

After the start of the war in Bosnia, Vedran Smailović, just like hundreds of thousands of other residents who endured the Siege of Sarajevo, survived the cold, food and water shortages, the constantbombings and sniper fire in the street.

In 1992, Smailović played his cello for 22 days to honour the 22 people who had been killed while queuing for bread. This act caught the imagination of people around the world. Composer David Wilde wrote a piece for cello called “The Cellist of Sarajevo” in his honour which was recorded by Yo Yo Ma. Smailović was also known for playing for free at different funerals despite the alleged history of targeting of funerals by Bosnian Serb forces.

He managed to leave the besieged city in late 1993, and since then has been involved in numerous music projects, as a performer, composer and conductor. Smailović now lives in Northern Ireland.

It’s an incredible story, but it is told without overblown histrionics. The cellist plays not knowing that an unseen female sniper, Arrow, has been assigned to keep him from harm. She watches from a window, scanning the scene for the sniper she knows will be there. Kenan is a man on his way to fetch water, and we join him on his tense journey. Dragan ensured his wife and son escaped to safety, but he remains, working in a bakery, missing them.

The author writes in a cool, somewhat detached, tone, and yet as a reader I became engaged with the three main characters. There are some original observations about how people under constant threat change (so many women have grey hair now that dye is unavailable), and there is much food for thought in the ethical concerns that Arrow explores. The end feel perhaps inevitable, but nonetheless this is an effective and moving book.

Say what?

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A young woman came into the bookshop and asked for ‘Annie’s spectacles’. I repeated it, she repeated it again, I typed it into the computer, nothing came up. I assumed from the title that it was a children’s book, but I asked the customer, just to be sure.

“No, it’s a play,” she said.
I hadn’t heard of it, but hey ho. I checked a different search engine. Nothing.
“Annie’s spectacles?” I said again.
“It’s very famous,” she said.
I shook my head. 
“Nothing’s coming up.”
Then suddenly, penny drops, ahh, “An Inspector Calls”.

Accepted!

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In my last post I mentioned an excellent magazine whose editor had praised my story but suggested it was more mainstream than the fiction they choose. Well I sent him one of my stranger little pieces, and am delighted to say that he has accepted it. More news when it appears (I dunno, I get superstitious about mentioning anything before it actually happens!) but I am rather pleased. Especially as I liked his initial comments so much. It is such a pleasure to know that there are editors who care, and take time, and encourage.