It is done. Commence Phase Two.

(also known as old news to people who follow my Facebook feed.)

Redlisted is done. Finished. Complete at 80,000 words, it's finalized and I will work on it no more.
I have sent it out to two agents so far. I plan to send it out to one agent a week until I run out of agents to bother or someone indicates interest.
Some rather optimistic (or kind) friends of mine are all like OF COURSE it will be published. I am fairly sure that it won't be, at least not by a traditional publishing house. I am up against some pretty nasty odds and I will be shocked and amazed if anyone wants to pick it up.
Let's take a look at the situation.

STUFF IN MY FAVOR
This book has been edited by like seventeen people.
I think the final draft is pretty great, and I usually hate everything I do forever.
It's about vampires. Who doesn't like vampires?*
Despite what this blog may lead you to believe I have a fairly okay grasp of English grammar.
I spellchecked the manuscript and made sure to format it according to industry standards.
My writer's group seemed to like the first chapter after I rewrote it for the eighth time.
I don't think there are any plot holes!
I am psychotically dedicated to my quest for publication and will exhaust all options before giving up.

THINGS THAT ARE NOT LOOKING SO GREAT
*No one likes vampires. In fact some agents are like "send us anything, AS LONG AS IT HAS NO VAMPIRES WHATSOEVER." Something about market saturation. Not like I didn't know that getting in to the project.
I have no publication credits.**
My cover letter is mediocre to embarrassing.
My synopsis is... Well the plot is complicated, it's not my fault.
Did I mention no one wants to pick up another vampire novel?

**I did write a short story though, and I'm trying to get it published.

Yeah. Vampires.
The truth is I didn't write this book because I thought it would be popular or get published. I wrote it because I felt I had to. They (who?) say that everyone has a story to tell. I don't know if I understand why, but mine was about the undead.
I know it's hokey. At first I was ashamed. "What is your novel about, Sara?" "It's... uhh... vampires." I am over that. We can't decide what is in our heart of hearts! We can only decide whether or not to acknowledge it.
I love this book and I will be its champion. I will give it the best chance I can in this crazy world.

In any case, I am mitigating my freakouts (somewhat) about the submission process and the looming spectre of universal rejection by working on another novel. It is not a sequel to Redlisted; it's an unrelated project. If asked to describe the genre I would say "dystopian dieselpunk fantasy".
Now watch there be a glut of that by the time I'm done with the damn thing.
No Sara! Don't be bitter. Who cares if a million books like mine are published tomorrow? I'm doing what I love and that is the most important thing.
It helps my sanity to know that I have another story in my heart. Maybe there are a lot more in there waiting to be discovered. Even if Redlisted gets rejected by everyone, I'll try again with what I'm working on now.

I expect nothing but I hope for the best.

Anxiety

I have always been an anxious person prone to rumination and insomnia. I started getting panic attacks when I was in high school. Some time in college I went to a psychiatrist (once) about the problem (yes only once) and she told me I had Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I proceeded to do nothing about it. (I am 27 now and I have done nothing about it.)

Some people are anxious about social situations, or aspects of life over which they have no control. Not me. For the very most part I am anxious only about the things I have direct control over, or at least those I feel I can control.

For example:

I am anxious when I feel I am not doing enough to manifest my dreams or goals into reality. I'm not talking about the Secret or anything; I'm talking about good old obsessive hard work prolonged over anywhere from a month to forever.

I am anxious when I work too hard at a project which has the potential to fail anyway (given my own perception of failure).

I am anxious when I think I am forgetting something important, which is all the time.

My only other sources of anxiety revolve around competition and judgment. I am anxious when I submit my work (dance, writing, art, etc) to be critiqued or judged by others.

Having established the context of my neuroses I will now move on to my present day situation.

It is time for me to send Redlisted out to agents. Well, it's nearly time. The manuscript is 99.95% done. I need to do some line editing. I need to write a cover letter and a synopsis. And then I need to grow a pair and send it out.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I want to die.

I looked at one (ONE) agent listing on AgentQuery last night. AgentQuery was like, okay Sara, tell us what genre you want to submit for. And I was like open the drop down box and FULL BLOWN PANIC ATTACK.

AAAA! OH GOD! I want to submit a FANTASY novel! (kind of!) FIGHT OR FLIGHT!

Oh God there are lots of agents on this page. Okay let's look at one of them. Oh, she seems really nice from her blog but still I think she's secretly Satan and should I query her she will send me back a response something like the following:

Dear Sara,
Do the human race a favor and stop writing.
xxoo,
Agent Lady

Would I believe it if I got a response like that? I would like to think not, but realistically I would probably spend at least a day listening to "No Surprises" and feeling like I had wasted the last two years.

AND THEN. AND THEN.

I thought about it some more. Bad idea.

I realized that the scariest outcome of this entire project would be if the book were actually to get published. Worse yet, if it were to be published and noticed by the general public. Because the idea of critics reading it and saying stuff about it--EVEN GENERALLY KIND THINGS--makes me want to crawl in a hole and die.

I am not just worrying about these things idly, I am physically shaking and my gastrointestinal system is in distress. I woke up in the middle of the night last night just because I needed to have an extra panic attack at 3AM.

All outcomes seem horrible, and I am consumed with fear of everything.

But really, honestly, in a sane world, the worst thing that could happen would be if I were to let these stupid neuroses get the best of me, chicken out, and not submit anywhere. That would be too sad and pathetic even for me.

SO.

OKAY SARA SAY IT WITH ME:

I will do this even though I am terrified. I will do this even if part of me doesn't even want to succeed. Because I need to show myself that I am strong. And even if I fail I will have succeeded. Because I tried.

The sweet death of ambition

So what follows may seem like another woe-is-Sara kind of post, but rest assured, that's not what I'm feeling. I just want to take stock of things by writing them out. And I feel fine. I'm happier recently than I've been in a long time.

I think it's time for me to re-evaluate my ambitions.

I've been trying for three-ish years to 'make it' as a bellydance teacher. By 'making it' I mean making enough money to do that part time and something else part time. I've never been under the misapprehension that I could teach and do nothing else, at least not in this area or this economy.

I quit my job in 2009. I got serious. I gave it a good effort.

Now I'm tired of it and I want to stop.

I live in an area with a lot of teachers. There's nothing wrong with that and I'm not upset about it, but the fact is if you divide the number of people interested in bellydance by the number of teachers you don't really get a whole lot of people in each class.

I live in an area where dance studio rent ranges from painful to exorbitant.

I live in an area where bellydance doesn't have a huge public face, and where most 'normal people' don't even know that the bellydance community exists.

I live in a time where no one has a whole lot of money to throw around, and when a certain world dance fitness craze has decimated the market for bellydance classes.

I've been teaching regularly since 2004. There hasn't been more than a month-long period when I haven't taught a regular class. I've taught as many as six classes per week in the past.

This year I realized, if I want to ever save any money at all, I would need to get a second part-time job. So now I have two part-time jobs, not one.

My teaching skills and my knowledge base are improving (I think?). My dance skills are certainly improving, anyway. I've recently been asked to participate in regional events as a performer or teacher for the first time. I practice and promote myself and I try to perform for the general public to raise awareness about the beauty of our dance form.

This year I tried to make another push for financial viability, adding two classes to my schedule for a total of four. My class attendance dwindled to fewer students than I had at the beginning of 2011, when I was teaching just two classes. In fact, it was about half the number of students I had in January of this year.

I cancelled two classes. Now my total number of students is the same as it was with four classes.

You'd think this would be frustrating. Well, it's only the fourth or fifth time this (or something worse) has happened to me, and I've learned to just look at it and accept it. And this time I took a step back and looked at how I really feel.

I don't want to teach four classes a week! I feel burned out when I teach that many. Doing 1000x basic moves is hard on my poor wretched FMS-riddled body. I get sick and tired and I pull so many muscles it's hard for me to concentrate on my own dance development. Besides, I like having time to do something other than work and teach and practice! I like not having every single weeknight and every single weekend day booked solid.

I don't really want what I thought I wanted.

For a month or so I've told myself I need to regroup, to try try again, to give it another year, but I look at what it's going to take to rebrand myself and make another big marketing push and I just don't want to do it. I don't want to do it any more.

The thing is I'm not much of an entrepreneur. I hate networking. I like making friends (for realsies) but when I have to worry about promoting myself I get awkward. I hate money and I hate branding! I hate advertising! I'm a naive artist. I want my work to stand on its own, even though I know that's stupid and that no one ever 'makes it' without shameless self promotion. I have too much shame, I guess.

I still love dance. I still want to teach, but I don't want to worry about whether or not I make money doing it. I want to share what I'm interested in, not what I think will sell. I especially want to perform, but I know I won't make money doing that. Those days are over. Maybe a new era will come around some day where you can get a restaurant gig and work it, but I might be too old to take advantage of it by then.

I'm not sad. I have a million other things I want to do with my life. I'll probably never be satisfied no matter what I manage to accomplish, but I'll never be bored, either.

So here's to the future. And to figuring out what I'll do with myself next.

What made me weird, part one

This post is inspired by an old post at Coilhouse, one of my favorite blogs.

Rogue.
I started using a computer when I was three. Back in the 80s this was the exception, not the rule. My parents had a PC Jr, one of the first computers with a monitor that could display any kind of color. My dad taught me how to use MS DOS to access the games on the PC Jr. My favorite of these games was called Rogue.

In Rogue, you played a little adventurer, represented by a tiny smiley face icon. You navigated your adventurer through randomly-generated dungeons; fought monsters, represented by letters of the alphabet (T for Troll, Z for Zombie), all of which had different abilities and strengths; collected gold, potions and equipment; and ate delectable things such as slime mold (viable nutriment in Rogue) to keep your character alive.

I now know that Rogue is considered the first "graphical adventure game" and is kind of a big deal in computer game history. I did not know this when I was three. Mostly I knew that I wanted to get to the fiftieth level of the dungeon and slay the M(inotaur). Because who doesn't want that?

Once, I made it to perhaps the twentieth level, which was a big deal since normally I died every five minutes or so. But it was late and my parents made me go to bed. When I woke up I found that someone had turned the computer off! I wanted to cry.
Dejected, I pushed the power button on the CPU. The little indicator light turned off. I pushed it again; the light turned on.

My dad appeared.
"Sara!" he said. "I just turned the monitor off! I left the computer on!"
And that's how I learned that monitors work separately from the CPU.



Pee-wee's Playhouse.
I think this one explains itself.



Dungeons and Dragons.
My parents have been playing D&D (and later AD&D) since before I was born. If I recall correctly they started back with the original D&D box set where you had to color in the pips on the dice with a white crayon.

As a small kid I thought all adults played D&D whenever they had friends over for dinner. I always wanted to join in but for the very most part I would just listen on the sidelines until I got bored or confused. It was probably too hard for me to play anyway, at least when I was very small. The game is much simpler now, but Advanced Dungeons and Dragons was a different story, with its THAC0 charts and all its innumerable tables and obscure conditional rules.

The first time I actually played a game of AD&D was when I was seven. My friend Tracy was the DM. I took my fighter through a dungeon and in the deepest depths I fought and killed a white dragon. Righteous.

Later that week I went to a novelty store at the mall and bought a necklace to symbolize this victory. The pendant was a dragon-ish looking claw holding a clear marble. I remember thinking very specifically that the marble was the dead dragon's eye. I wore the shit out of that necklace.

The Monstrous Manual was particularly formative for me.



Books.
I started reading when I was two. I read all kinds of everything. I especially loved fantasy novels. I read fast and constantly. I read on the playground during recess. (I was not a particularly popular little girl.)

My original job aspirations were astronaut (because space) and author (because books). Then I found out how you use the toilet on a space shuttle and that pretty much killed my space aspirations.

After that I basically assumed I was going to grow up and become a writer. I lost track of that goal for a long time, but I've come back to it as an adult. Even though I'm unpublished I feel I am finally doing my younger self justice.

The kinds of books I read (mostly fantasy) made me want to see things differently. I wanted to look around myself and find secrets and magic. I wanted to believe that there is something more to the world than what is apparent to our eyes and ears.

I still do.

Two books stand out particularly well in my memory. The first is the book pictured above, Wise Child by Monica Furlong. Thinking back, I'm all but sure that this book made me stop being Catholic and turned me into the weird pseudo-pagan-but-not-really I am today. (I identify as Panentheist. Say that five times fast. I'm not Atheist but I'm a-religious.)

The second is Oddly Enough by Bruce Coville, a collection of short stories, one of which ("The Language of Blood") most likely generated my deep and abiding love for vampires.

Sara Beaman, Re-Animator

So I'm going to try blogging again. Let's not talk about the hiatus and my related feelings of shame. No one wants to hear about it, least of all me.

Instead let's talk about my current projects.

The old obsession rears its (ugly? fabulous? combo of the two?) head.
After a months-long hiatus, I am working on the fifth draft (sane, normal, balanced decision) of my vampire novel, which henceforth shall be referred to as Redlisted as I have decided that will be the title.
I got really burned out on Redlisted earlier this year and didn't think I would ever want to work on it again. For reasons I can only speculate about, within the last week I have suddenly become eager to work on it again.
I'm going to be integrating major changes that I think will improve the book, to make it more coherent, to bring out the nature of the characters and to make the plot more interesting.
SO EXCITED.

I am also working on a second novel. It's not about vampires.

I am putting together an anachronistic variety show, the Doomsday Cabaret. It will have bellydancers and hopefully other kinds of performers doing fun and interesting things, and will take place on Friday Dec. 9. Please come if you care about my feelings. And let me know if you are interested in performing or contributing to the administrative aspect of the show.

I'm going to be giving another lecture about bellydance history at UNC next week (most likely, it's still tentative).

I'm teaching a benefit workshop for the Wake County SPCA on October 9.

And of course I am teaching class, performing, etc etc that sort of thing.

I recently started a second part time job as well. So I'm having to teach myself some stricter time management techniques. But it's starting to work out all right, and it's nice not to have to be super stressed out about money all the time.

And there you have it.

Workshops in Greensboro!

July 9 at Twisted Dance Studio in Gboro! I will be teaching two awesome workshops and giving a FREE lecture about the history of bellydance!
REGISTER HERE: http://www.twisteddance.com/blog/sara-beaman-workshops/


Both workshops are open to all dancers, regardless of skill level or stylistic persuasion. I try to include something for everyone! (Hopefully more than one thing!)

10am-12pm: Dancing from the Core
The heart of fusion is the core–the core muscles, that is. We’ll learn the essential principles of muscular technique, including posture, alignment, one, two, and three dimensional isolations, and layered isolations. We’ll learn how to use visualization techniques to help us dance with great power and refinement. Perhaps most importantly, we’ll learn how to dance without pain.

1:30pm-3:30pm: Choreography 101
Learn the secrets of how to keep your audiences enthralled! Dance is not just a series of moves–it’s moving sculpture, it’s theater, it’s life itself. We’ll explore the choreographic process using exercises that a beginner could do and a professional would still benefit from. Topics covered will include musicality, stage dynamics, transitions, traveling patterns, and performance mentality.

4:00pm-5:00pm: History of Bellydance
A free lecture on the history of Bellydance.

More info is available at the link above.

If you are coming to these workshops, please let me know what you're hoping to work on!

Feeling guilty

because I haven't posted in quite some time. I've been feeling kind of drained lately, both mentally and physically, and I haven't had much happen that I was excited to write about.
A few weeks ago I thought I had happened across a prescription combination that was going to be the magic bullet for my fibromyalgia symptoms. I was really ready to believe that I might be able to achieve a new standard of living, permanently. I think I got excited over... not nothing, but a few days of feeling better, after which I went back to normal. It was nice to feel better for a little while, anyway. But right now I'm tired and enervated.
I spent a long time thinking I could make myself feel better without (legal) drugs, and for a while I think I was right. I spent most of my college years feeling pretty okay. The years since then have been harder. I exercise regularly (although not very strenuously, because then I'd hurt myself), I eat fairly well, and I get more than enough sleep every night, and now I'm even on drugs because I gave up on making it on my own, and I still feel kind of shitty most of the time. I only work about four hours a day, six days a week (yes I know what that multiplies to. I'm functionally idle), but between that and cleaning and cooking and a few half hours of writing and practice every day, it feels like all I can manage.
I know I am going to have to make a big push if, for example, I want to try to get my book published--and I might as well try; it's pretty much finished. But right now I don't have the energy to do much other than get by.
Which is fine. At least I'm getting by.