The Ides of Marsha

We wrapped up the spring program of the DFW Writers Bloc this afternoon with a wonderful presentation by Annie Neugebauer. The Writers Bloc is part of the DFW Writers' Workshop, and is facilitated by our fantastic hosts at North Lake College. It's been wonderful to see this tiny little program grow and come into its own over the past year, and we're really excited about doing even more with the WB's summer programming.

But the person I keep meaning to thank is this one in the picture here - Marsha Hubbell. She has been our self-appointed class mom and tireless cheerleader from the get-go. She brings us cupcakes and veggie chips, helps with set-up, loans out tupperware, and catches balls before I can even finish dropping them. She even puts us in the newsletter at the Writers Guild of Texas (WGT), which is all kinds of kind (and those of you up in the Richardson/Plano area DO need to do yourselves a favor and drop in for a visit.) Our good friend Helen is filling in for Jane Lumsden in this photo, who has probably logged a hundred Fitbit miles schlepping ice and gluten-free cookies for the greater glory of the Workshop.

And tonight I'm thinking a lot about just how much of the world's supply of hospitality, harmony, and convenience comes from Marsha and Jane and people like them. The folded towel that your doctor has for you to lay over your lap when you lie back for your exam, so you don't feel quite so exposed. Those little chocolate bites that your favorite church lady brings to the 9:30 service. The box of kleenex the homeroom teacher already has out when you go in to talk about what's happening with your kid, so you don't have to ask or even reach. They're the littlest things - enjoyed, often taken for granted, and forgotten almost as soon as they're consumed - but they are *oxygen* for our sense of wellbeing. (For comparison, think about the last time you waged a pitched battle with the forces of rote bureaucratic indifference. Think about how much easier it is to expand and relax your mind when someone has already provided for your meat-suit.)

So if you've enjoyed the Writers Bloc at all this year, please join me in giving big love to Marsha and Jane, our tireless behind-the-scenes snack-Sherpas and juice-o-mancers. If dealing with your fellow Earthlings has left you bruised or burned, if you worry that the well of the world's generosity is drying up, come out to the Writers Bloc next time you have a free Saturday afternoon - we've got a treat for you.

A Salute to the DFWWW

I haven't had time to do any kind of year-in-review post. I have less than no time to do anything at the moment. But I can't keep a lid on this part.

Whenever you work closely with someone, whenever you try something new (and ESPECIALLY when you are doing both in tandem), you are going to make some waves. And you are going to make some mistakes. I have inadvertently given some of my favorite people some really terrible heartburn over the past year. Realistically, it will probably happen again at some point. Synchronizing brain-waves and improving thoughtfulness-algorithms is a slow, trial-and-error process.
 
 

But I'm going to put it right here, today and in writing: DFW Writers' Workshop is my light, my heart, and my rocket-fueled reason for professional being. They are the bar-none best critique culture I've ever seen, and the ONLY reason any of the rest of the world gives even half of a rip about me or my work. Anything you like about me or what I do, I learned or perfected there. And when I get in trouble, it is usually because I am giving away DFWWW awesomesauce faster than we can make it.
So if you're a writer in DFW and you need a posse to help you go the distance - my god, have I got a deal for you. (It is right over here - http://www.dfwwritersworkshop.org/ - and I will proselytize on request. WITNESS ME.)

Better yet, witness THEM.

And to all my DFWWW posse, with double helpings for Brooke and Brian and Stephen and everybody else who's giving up their own writing time to keep the workshop working: thank you for firing me up, showing me off, and keeping me from burning the place down in my incandescent enthusiasm. I write by your light, and will do my best to serve you with mine.

Stealing Fire: An Ask, and an Offer

EDIT: The DFW Writers Workshop is currently reviewing funding for its programs. The Writers Bloc will continue uninterrupted, but this Patreon drive is on hold for now. (I'm leaving the post up, because I'm proud of it.)

A Different Kind of Call Goes Out

Okay, so you know the “this is my 2AM phone call” post from a few months back?

This is not that. This is not an emergency or a crisis or a disaster. This is a state-of-my-union address, and... let’s say a casting call.

Today is June 27th. Six months exactly until Dreams of the Eaten comes out. And the almost-perfect halfway point of 2016.

This is how I've spent my time this year, in hours.

I’ve worked hard this year, and with good results. So far, I have:

1. Started a “secret” coalition of DFW-area writers groups. We have seventeen in the fold so far, with more still to add – and we are beginning to do great things.
2. Begun a new program for the DFW Writers Workshop, called the Writers Bloc – a fledgling once-per-month education and social group, free and open to the public. It’s still a work in progress, but we’ve had great response so far.
3. Taught at my first paid gig – a writers retreat – and been invited to another one (which is going to be awesome - you should come!)
4. Led a three-month "speakers workshop" to prepare new instructors to teach at DFWcon 2016 - which is always one of the highlights of my year
5. Started teaching for the Writers Path at SMU here in Dallas. I’m having such a good time – this is one of my proudest professional accomplishments to date.
6. Helped Kristen stay in her house. (Actually, you-all have done that – I’m just banging the gong)
7. Initiated a partnership with the Dallas County Community College District - too early and still too tentative to call a win, but one that has the potential to change the entire DFW literary scene
8. Started teaching my own one-day writing workshops – irregularly, but to great enthusiasm
9. Formed a crew of convention ambassadors from the DFW Writers Workshop – a bad-ass panelist posse if there ever was one
10. Finished the edits for Dreams of the Eaten... almost.

And I haven't even gotten rolling yet. I haven't even started putting together the fan-swag and writer-merch I want to sell - still want to create a booth-sharing con-going author-coalition - am determined to get this "Page it Forward" free first chapters project off the ground.

You notice, though, how many of those list items up there start with the word “started,” “begun”, etc. – and the one “finished” thing isn’t even finished yet.

And what I’ve learned in the first half of 2016 is that I’m not going to make it through the second if I keep this up. I’m pushing hard because these are things I want to do for a living – things I want to spend my life doing. And if I’m going to stay in the game for the next 30 or 40 or 50 years (and I plan to!), I need my health. My friends. My marriage. All of which have been back-burnered for months now – none of which can afford to stay there.

This is not my to-do list.
This is one of my ten to-do lists.

But the other thing I learned, while we were making the big push for Kristen, is that it's not always a selfish thing to ask for help. Sometimes it's the hardest, bravest, kindest, most generous thing you can do - for yourself and for the people you're asking.

So this is me, taking the plunge, asking for help. Here in approximate order of urgency are the things I need.

1. A digital me. A carnival barker – promoter – cyber-bard – whatever you want to call it. I am an organizer, teacher, motivator, and thoroughly analog human. I am not a promoter or an e-socializer. I need someone who can tweet, face, blog, and email so that the rest of the world can find out about these great deeds-in-progress. Maybe two someones (one for my books, and one for my writer-doings). And I’m happy to pay for that, but I don’t want to dig up some rando out of the phone book. I would much rather work with somebody who’s already drunk the Kool-Aid – who’s as excited about this stuff as I am. (You can buy a person’s time, y’all, but enthusiasm is a priceless, unsellable treasure.)
   
   
2. Book reviews. The kind you write yourself, on Amazon and Goodreads, and the kind book bloggers write on their websites. This is the one kind of promotion I can't (ethically) buy or barter for myself. Getting Sixes past the 50-review mark on Amazon would be terrific. Getting Medicine to 25 would be fantastic. And getting *any* book blogger of size to pick up this series would be unutterably wonderful.
   



Stockpiling pre-orders for this one would be good too.

3. Speaking opportunities. I want to be on your podcast, at your conference, in your bookstore. Anything that involves speaking out loud, in real time (in person or online) is 100% my jam - and travel and expense may not be the barriers you think they are. Hit me up. Connect me. We’ll figure it out.
   
4. Press. Publicity. Especially the kind that doesn't involve me having to sit down and gin up a 1,000-word blog post on my own initiative. (I can do those. I will do those - especially if your name is the Mary Sue, io9, John Scalzi, or Cracked. But they take a lot out of me, and I don't have the juice to do guest posts on the regular anymore.) If you can do the chronicling, I will provide all the insightful, hilarious, Textacular content you can handle.
   



To date, I have not been on TV. But I've definitely been near TV.

5. An artist - one who has enjoyed my books. Again, I will happily pay for time and talent - but it would be really great to have enthusiasm come pre-installed.
   
6. Website help - especially someone who knows their way around a shopping cart. (And Shawn, Jonathan: thank you so much for putting yourselves forward for the Droughtworld website. I'm absolutely going to take you up on it. This bat-signal is for the events/workshops side of things.)
   
7. Classroom/workshop spaces in DFW. They need to be suitable for video presentations (I can provide all the A/V equipment), ideally able to seat up to 25, available nights and weekends, and - here is the critical part - okay with me accepting money on the premises. I'm happy to give a percentage of what I make - so if you have an office or big back room that's going unused after-hours and want to see if we can help each other out, please hit me up.
   
8. An A/V pro in DFW. Someone we can hire to help us to create professional-quality recordings of our Writers Bloc classes (one Saturday a month in Irving.)

Yeah, I know - it's a hell of a list. And the delicious irony of all this communal ruckus-raising I've been doing over the past couple years is that I've surrounded myself with people who are as driven as I am - who are stretching themselves to the max to chase their own dreams. It makes for a fantastic friends-circle, but doesn't leave any of us with much room to help each other out.

So for all of you wonderful people who would walk through fire and brimstone for me if only you could find five spare minutes to fire up the coals - don't worry. And don't let your chronic altruism sucker you into overcommitting yourself. I need your friendship more than anything on this list - and in that, you've already given me a great gift.

Including but not limited to the gift of shenanigans.

But if you do see something here that gets your inner overachiever all fired up ("Ooh! Me! Pick me!"), and you genuinely do have the bandwidth for it - please let me know. Here or email (tex at thetexfiles.com) or smoke signals or a brick through my front window. And when you do, let me know how this will fit into your bigger picture - because so often we can do for each other what we can't do for ourselves, and I would love to be part of your success, too.


My name is Alexander Hamilton
And there’s a million things I haven’t done
But just you wait - just you wait...

Fix Your Con Panels By Using This One Weird Old Trick

Man, you guys. You know that feeling you get when you're so pumped you're actually punch-a-wall angry?

No?

Okay, let me back up.

I rounded up a few members of the DFW Writers Workshop and ran panels with them at All-Con this weekend. This was a good plan for several reasons: it gave us a chance to promote our workshop and conference, gave them a chance to practice public speaking without any one person having to solo in the spotlight, and gave me a chance to spread the joy of con-dom (heh) to writers who hadn't visited a fan convention before. We had a huge range of genres and experience levels represented, and a tremendous variety of interests.

Jennie Komp, for example, was interested in the inflatable T-Rex.

And y'all. Seriously. They KILLED it out there. This crew was just so head-and-shoulders above anything I expected, and honestly, above 80% of the panels I've done with published professionals. They were prepared. They were enthusiastic. They endured heroic commutes and ludicrous parking costs. They sat in on each others' panels, passed the ball to each other and to the audience, and rolled gracefully with every logistical punch the weekend threw at them. In short, they treated the convention experience like the pleasure and the privilege that it is.

And like... I don't need to build them up by tearing other people down, but this is SUCH a change from what I've come to expect from the convention panel format. Patrice Sarath said it better than I could. Short version: if you are LUCKY enough to have even a single person seek you out and sit in a room to hear your opinions on whatever given subject, you owe them your absolute best. Yes, cons can be exhausting. Yes, it's hard when you're sick or haven't had much sleep. But if you aren't going to bring your A-game, do the rest of us a favor and don't show up. Nobody in that audience came to hear about how tired you are, how drunk you got, how you don't know why you're on the panel or how we're lucky you're even talking to us at 9AM on a Sunday. You're (allegedly) a professional. Go hard or get out.

Okay, rant over. But to the con organizers of the world - let me lay something on you.

The DFW workshop crew aren't just magically a superior breed of human (though they are pretty dang fabulous.) They rock because they know how to play as a team. Like, they worked on this project together for literally weeks before the con. They came up with panel topics and descriptions, sorted themselves into teams, collaborated on questions, chose their own moderators... basically, they ran this thing from soup to nuts. More importantly - and here is the key difference, I think - they weren't just in this for themselves. They came to represent the workshop - to ride for the brand, as it were.

While they were at it, they also represented Ripley, Rey, Captain America, and Cosima Niehaus.

And that's what I think we're missing at our conventions. When I go to AggieCon next month, I'll be representing myself. I want people to think I'm cool and buy my books, so I will do my very best. And I happen to be a team player-type, so I will put the interests of the panel/discussion ahead of my own - but you can't count on people to do that. Given the choice between hogging the mic and maybe making a book sale off it, or passing it to the rando next to them and making the discussion more interesting... a whole lot of people are going to go with Option A. So you end up with a panel full of people playing air-time tug-of-war, talking themselves up at the expense of the conversation. It's the tragedy of the nerd-commons.

But if you "subcontract" some of your panels out to other organizations - then the dynamic changes. If everyone on the panel is from the same writers group, the same podcast, the same publisher or anthology or whatever, then suddenly it's in all our best interests to play for the team. We have sharper banter, better chemistry, the warmer atmosphere that comes from already knowing each other - and more importantly, our personal interests now align with the group interests. In improving the discussion, we improve our collective image. And that's good for everyone.

And yes, I will totally take credit for our sweet matching name tents.

I've seen this work well at other cons already. The Gentlemen Nerds put on a great show at ConDFW last month. The Redheads of the Apocalypse always do. And those names - those "brands" - are becoming a recognizable staple of Texas con programming: you don't have to know what the panel is about to know what kind of time you're going to have when you get there.

We need to do more of that, y'all. We have tons of terrific authors and artists on the con circuit, and wonderful things can happen when they land on the long side of a table together. But we also have some amazing collectives, too - and if you give them the freedom to choose their own team and run their own show, I promise you will see results.

No, better than promise - I challenge you. Book the DFW Writers Workshop con-squad for your next convention, and we'll put the 'pro' in your programming.

P.S.: All-Con was AMAZING. DFWcon will be too! For a good time, use discount code ALLCON2016

#sfwapro

Romancing the Gold; Going the Distance

Did you feel a tingle in the air this morning?  A slight but fundamental shifting of the balance of the universe?

That wasn't indigestion, my friend - today is truly an exceptional day.  Because today, Carolyn Williamson (writing as Carolyn Rae) has had her first fiction book published: a romantic suspense novel called Romancing The Gold.

"Romantic suspense?  That doesn't sound like your usual."

It isn't!  In fact, it's more like my Never Have I Ever (though I fully intend to correct that, starting with this one here!)

But let me tell you why this is A Thing.

See, Carolyn is a founding member of my workshop, the DFW Writers Workshop - which opened in 1977.  And when I visited NTRWA last week, I found out that not only is she a founding member there too (since 1983!), but they've named their most prestigious award after her - the Carolyn Award. 

And no, your math ain't wrong: she's been at this for over 35 years.  I don't know what she was doing back during the disco craze, but I can tell you this: I've seen her at DFWWW pretty much every week since I joined. Organizing the read list. Bringing little goodies in. Standing up during every call for submissions and rejections. And - here's the key point - always, always reading something new.  She hasn't just been taking up space on the roster since the Carter administration: she's been working full tilt, flat out, to go the distance and make the dream happen.  Along the way, she's published cookbooks and articles, learned and taught, raised a family and travelled the world. 

Shoot, I remember last year, when this book was first picked up for publication.  How we cheered!  How excited we were for her!  ...and how astonishing it was to hear her stand up, less than a month before its release date, to announce that the publisher had gone out of business.

And let's be real, guys: when your three-decades-overdue ship finally comes in, only to sink at the dock, you would be well within your rights to hurl your Underwood into a bonfire and crawl into a bottle of Wild Turkey.  Not Carolyn.  She went with us to IHOP, ordered herself a big ice cream sundae, and then got right back on the wagon.

And here we are today. 

Y'know, my friend Shay said something really wonderful a couple of weeks ago - about how you need other writers, not just to help you get where you want to go, but also to show you how to be where you already are.  How to thrive at your current milestone, and keep pushing forward to the next one.  For me, Carolyn is both.  When I get to be her age, I want to be as legendary as she is - to have that diamond-bright reputation as an avatar of service, passion, and perseverance (and if people want to name an award after me, I won't say no!)  But I also want to emulate her cheerful, dauntless resilience, right now, today - and we at DFWWW are so lucky to have that modelled for us, every Wednesday night of the year.

Maybe you are not that lucky.  Maybe you don't get to hang out with Carolyn like I do.  Fortunately, she's on Facebook and has a blog - and as hard as she's worked on it, I strongly suspect her book is as exceptional as she is.  I don't know about you, but I can't wait to find out.


A professional writer is an amateur who didn't quit.

A Happy Convergence

Holy cats, you guys.  I'm in Minneapolis for CONvergence, and I'm already so tired that I might actually die, but I am having the BEST time.  And as sloppy as this post is going to be, I can't let even one more day go without doing a news update.

1.  The DFW Teen Writers Workshop is happening again!  We haven't done one of these since I became a member in 2012, so this is my first one, and I am BEYOND excited.  It's a free six-week workshop for 9th to 12th graders, kicking off on July 12th (and I would be stoked about it even if they hadn't invited me to teach the session on critiquing!)

Anyway, if you have a kid who loves writing or needs to be kept out of the pool halls this summer, please click over and check it out - it should be a fantastic experience for everyone.

2.  One Night in Sixes got a terrific review from Michael MacPherson over at GeekChicElite.com.  To say I'm on cloud nine would be a huge understatement.  I can't even tell you what it feels like to get a Tweet out of the blue from some brand-new person who read your book and loved it.  I just can't even.

Oh, but here is what I CAN say: GCE is a new site that's covering a huge array of nerd-tacular subjects, and blowing up like you wouldn't believe.  From an interview with the cast of Sailor Moon to a review of Disney's new Figment comic and news about the Guardians of the Galaxy soundtrack, they already have a terrific variety of articles up, and I'm way interested to see what they do next.  And not just because they obviously have amazing taste in fantasy novels.

3.  Books have officially made it stateside!  They are a real thing now - and they look GREAT.

And like... this is one semester of art history and a whole lot of over-tired emotionality talking here, but I get soggy every time I look at this picture.  It was taken just this afternoon (my amazing agent Jennie took delivery of the books for me and invited a whole passel of us over for dinner at her house, where we opened the box and had much rejoicing.)  And it was SUCH a great evening - that perfect mix of awesome weather, old friends, new friends, and fantastic food.  But more than that, this right here is how I always want to remember this whole writing gig.  Like, the books are there because of the people in my life, photographed with the people (bare toes, tasty nibbles, and happy times included!), and are there at the bottom of the shot because ultimately they are subordinate to those people. 

Like, those cute glossy little paperbacks literally would not exist without some of the people who were at dinner tonight, and a whole lot more who weren't, and as much time as I have spent / will spend on promoting the book, I never want it to be bigger or more important than the people whose invisible fingerprints are on literally every page.  (And man, if you think I sound over-sloppy about this now, you are not even going to be able to handle me at the launch party.)

Anyway, bed now, game face on tomorrow.  Please holler if you're around the con this weekend - it's my first time here, and I would love to meet some new northerly friends!

Midnight Brain Drippings: the Good, the Bad, and the Angry

Not going to lie, you guys: I am seriously overclocked these days.  Really want to do another GrammatiCats post, but it may be a bit before I get that far.

But I was rebellious and hedonistic enough to go to workshop last night, and to the traditional IHOP foray following, and we ended up having an especially savory conversation.  It was a swirling syrup-drizzled vortex of big expensive TV shows and giant sprawling book series and the frustrations of aspiring writerdom at large. Here for posterity and my own future reference:

On Big Fat Fiction:

1.  There seems to be a trend nowadays toward deeply flawed / unlikeable characters (Mad Men*, Game of Thrones, et al.)  "Idiots being mean to each other."

*I've only seen 1 1/2 seasons of Mad Men, and don't know how true this is.  But I remember being deeply impressed at how the writers managed to craft a suspenseful, dramatic, multi-layered story when so many traditional staples of TV drama - drugs, murder, violence, explosions, et al - have been taken off the table.

2.  A steady diet of "good guy vs. bad guy" stories can get tiresome, especially when you already know that the good guy is going to win.

3.  Many writers seem to have shaken out of the above mold by writing "bad guy vs. bad guy" stories - or less simplistically, an ensemble cast of morally gray characters at odds with each other.  Strange that "good guy vs. good guy" seems not to be terribly much in fashion.  (Premier hallmark example: The Wire. This is my favorite kind of story, and what I've tried to accomplish with Sixes.)

4.  A Song of Ice and Fire blew my mind when I first read it, because it was such a departure from the Big Fat Fantasy I'd read up until then - giant multi-thousand-page epic-quest monomyths where everybody's an archetype and Joseph Campbell spoiled the ending 60 years ago.  But see #2.

5.  But amazing groundbreaking fiction stops being amazing when it goes on long enough to establish its own constant trends.  If there's a likable character in ASoIaF on the verge of accomplishing something valuable and important, you can lay down your last dollar on it ending in a horrific botch.  It's still plenty interesting to watch the dominoes fall, but there's no longer the suspense of wondering whether they will or not.

And from a separate branch of the conversation,

On the Frustrations of Writing:

6.  So many aspiring writers getting frustrated when they've been so careful to play by the rules, and yet get nowhere.  (Passing similar to what I've heard when guys' well-intentioned efforts to meet women are continually rebuffed.  "I did everything you said you wanted - why don't you like me?")  Very hard to avoid this feeling when the people telling you "no" won't tell you straight what you're doing wrong so you can fix it.

7.  #6 above makes rich ground for unscrupulous people to sell ridiculous prescriptions to the desperate and frustrated.  Even well-meaning folks can unwittingly become bad prophets this way.

8.  Possibly part of the problem is writers asking the wrong question - wondering "how can I get published and make hella money and have my book in all the stores" instead of "how can I become a super bad-ass awesome writer?"  Too much emphasis on the nouns and adjectives - book deal, famous, published, author, signings - instead of on the verb, the activity of writing, as a worthy end in itself.

9.  But in fairness, it's hard not to get one's righteous rageface on when Twilight and 50 Shades sell beaucoup millions while violating all or most of the rules of good fiction that we keep raking each other over the coals about.  Readers can catapult a book to fame on the strength of "cuz I liked it."  Writers have no such luxury.

And separately from everything else,

10. "Red Hulk" is a stupid name for a comic book character.  Full stop.


Anyway, back soon with something more coherent.  For similar, better-curated pearls of wisdom from my posse, visit DFWWW in the meantime.  Our milkshake brings ALL the word-addicts to the yard.

This looks like a job for Bipolar Bear!  But I just can't seem to get out of bed...

Dragon It All Out to the Curb

Hey guys - sorry for the long radio silence here.  On balance, the phrase "hey, why don't we move?" should be thrown about roughly half as often as "hey, why don't we quit our jobs and become hitchhiking mariachis?"

Anyway, funny story.  To facilitate the moving process, I gave away a couple carloads of stuff at my writers' workshop. Here is one small example:

Jangle is the fortune-teller.  Haromis is the harpist, natch.

My mom bought these two sweet dragon sculptures for me at a student art sale at her college, and gave them to me... hell, it must have been about twelve years ago now.  Pretty cool, huh?  I mean, anybody can grow a Windstone collection, but to say you have a pair of special one-of-a-kind dragons is pretty rad indeed!  Needless to say, they've had a special place on my display shelf ever since.

Still, I've moved pretty well out of dragon-flavored fantasy over the past few years.  And as I contemplated packing them up and finding a place for them in our new Fortress of Jollitude, I realized I was hanging on to them more out of guilt than anything else. 

So in the car they went - along with the digital camera, the DVD box sets, the super-fancy kitchen gizmos, the boxes of books and CDs and all the other wonderful things that had washed up in the lesser-used corners of my life.  I parked at workshop, threw open the car doors, and banged the soup pan to tell everybody to go get it while the getting was good.  Everything that was still left when the dust settled went to Goodwill.  (Don't worry about the dragons, though - they went to my great friend Trayce by special arrangement, and have begun a wonderful new life amidst a truly first-rate extended dragon family.)

Anyway, this endeavor had a pretty consistent refrain throughout.  "Tex, you can't give this away!"  "Tex, are you sure?"  "Tex, what's your damage?"  (I'm going to pretend that that last one was about the free stuff.)

Which is kind of funny, coming from a bunch of writers.  You know, because we get rid of stuff ALL THE TIME.  That god-awful indulgent prologue that's been weighing you down?  Axed.  That scene that was total genius and now makes your generative organs shrivel in shame every time you look at it?  Gone.  That one chapter you STILL love but does sweet jack-all to advance the story?  See you in the director's cut, buddy.

I still struggle with that part.  I can unload a fondue set in thirty seconds, but hitting that Delete key is agony.   "Butbutbut my deathless prose!"

Because getting rid of something is such an act of faith, you know?  It's saying, "Don't worry; I have enough already."  It's saying, "That's all right; there's more where that came from."  It's having the self-confidence to believe that your stuff, and your words, are fundamentally renewable resources... and that your one absolute NONrenewable resource - which is to say, your time - is better spent pruning and cultivating the truly great things, rather than meticulously curating everything you've ever owned or written.

And if you've mastered that last part, please tell me your secret.

In the meantime, many thanks to the DFW Writers Workshop and all my e-peeps.  You lighten my house, my books, and my soul like you wouldn't believe.

Denouement: Pamela "The Death Writer" Skjolsvik was so delighted with her car goodies that she commissioned a pair of art shoes for me from her super-talented daughter Lola (alias MangaShoes on Etsy!)  Say hello to Applejack and Big McIntosh!

So there you have it, folks. Prune bravely, and never fear to declutter, donate, downsize, or delete.  Empty space attracts amazing things.

What's the matter, my dear?  Don't you like your toys?