How I survived grad school Cynthia 12:51 PM

I haven't posted for a while because I got it in my head that I needed a master's degree. Five minutes later, I started the Master of English program, and have been going nonstop like Xena running the Gauntlet, while working a full-time job and momming a bunch of adult children.

After the myriad requests I received to write new blogs (a couple of people casually mentioning that they hadn't seen anything from me for a while) I decided to take the time to put something out there since now I have the time to put something out there.

About my life over the past two years

First:

It is important to note that the summer semesters cost me (aside from tuition) 30% of my sanity and two toes to frostbite (the latter, while only theoretical, and not actual toes, because the classrooms in the summer are unbelievably cold and like a fool, I was wearing summer-appropriate attire).

Second:

It became somewhat of a tradition for one or more students to follow me out of the classroom on the last day of class to tell me how much they hated me at the beginning of class, but that at some point during the semester realized I was an OK human being. Many of these people I call my friends now, not because I'm so desperate for friends that I'll snuggle up to the mean kids, but because a) these people turned out to be actually cool people, and because, b) hey ... I appreciate the honesty. There's not enough of that.

Third:

I moved more times than I care to admit. Apparently, I have problems committing to living space. I was renting a home when I started the program, because I still had several children living with me, and I decided that when they had all moved out and I had finished the master's program, I would move to Salt Lake City and buy a tiny house or condo that only took 30 minutes to clean to a shine.

Barely into my first semester, the owner came home from whatever he was doing overseas and didn't want to share his home with me and my children, so I moved to a lovely home in the historic district of my town (see photo below of lovely home).

Source: My camera

During my last semester, that owner suddenly, spastically decided that he didn't want to be a landlord anymore, and offered to sell the house to me, but I ultimately declined (based on the advice of an inspector), since, although it's a cool house, it's over 100 years old, and there were some structural issues I wasn't sure I wanted to deal with—also, he was hard-selling it like it was a used car—so I moved into a temporary place while I'm looking for a home to buy. All of my stuff is still in a storage shed because I still haven't found the home I want to live in forever or for the next five or so years.

Also, I realized how much I love the city I live in. Maybe I'm not so eager to leave it anymore.

Fourth:

Hey guys, my laptop died. The. Week. My. Thesis. Was. Due.

I want to make it clear that I recognize there are bigger problems in the world than not having a working laptop. I know with all my heart that my first-world problems are minuscule in comparison with larger, heart-breaking issues.

Source: gamingnexus.com/Images/News/grfoht33307/2.jpg

But the week my 55-page project was due, my laptop died without so much as a whimper, and I was sitting there on the floor, staring at a blank screen in the nest of blankets I'd been sleeping in for the past six weeks because my bed was in the back of a storage shed, AND I was out of wine. It seemed like a pretty big deal in the moment. At the same time, I was laying out and formatting Aelurus, the literary magazine for which I somehow ended up being managing editor. And it was tax season, so every client at my work wanted their tax documents from 7,000 different investment companies. So suddenly, everyone in the world (or so it seemed) was waiting for me to complete things I didn't have access to anymore, and I'd forgotten how to breathe. Between lunches at work and my daughter's 11-inch Asus, which sports a keyboard too small for my life-sized hands, I completed the project, finished laying out Aelurus, and remembered how to breathe. The night I turned my project in, I drank some (too much) celebratory wine and played Peggle (badly) with my two youngest children.

I received my degree (empty purple cover) at a hooding ceremony on a Wednesday night. My family and some close friends attended, including a professor who isn't in my department, but taught a couple of my graduate classes (and whom I have become good friends with over the last two years), and a professor who taught a few of my undergrad classes years and years ago, and has since retired. I felt honored to have these people (professors, family, and friends) take time out of their schedules to sit through this ceremony with me.

The highlights of my time in the programs were meeting those fellow students I hope will remain my friends for years to come, and meeting those amazing professors I also hope will remain my friends for years to come. Yes, I improved my writing skills and got a paper accepted to a conference in New York. But basically, I met cool people and wrote cool stuff, including:

• an essay on how humans refused to stop exploring once they ran out of untamed terra firma, so they dug into the human mind, and ventured out to space
• an essay on how strong women in pop culture tend to be highly sexualized instead of intellectualized
• a series of feminist poems and essays with a backbone of modernized mythology

To sum up, it was a rough couple of years, but it was an amazing couple of years. I'd do it again with less relocating and more laptop.

What I'm doing next

Nothing different. I'll keep working the same job, continue to look for a house, and relish the time I have to hang out with my children and the friends who stuck with me through the two years during which I virtually disappeared.

For my friends still in the program—I love you, I miss you, I'll see you on the other side.

Setting sketch - urban Cynthia 5:23 PM

You want to set your story in a big city, but you've never been there. Maybe you've never been to any big city ever. Maybe your idea of a big city is one with two grocery stores and a stoplight. How do you write it into your story? You can either throw in the towel and set all your stories in your home town, or you can get all research-y.

This is when I wish I had a giant travel budget. There's nothing like experiencing something firsthand to give your telling of it authenticity. But we can't all do that--even visiting a city for a weekend or a week doesn't give you a real idea about what it's like to live there. Therefore, some of us have to live vicariously through Google Maps and other travelers and residents of the chosen city. Someone you know personally is the best resource for those dirty little details, but in lieu of that, there are plenty of blogs, websites, videos and other tools available to get to know a big city. For example, this video, which is not only informative and visual, but sports a guy with an Irish accent for your viewing pleasure.

SushiSamba

That's great, you say. But where would I go to eat after I'd wandered the streets and taken in the sights? Well here you go, friend! Search for New York's best restaurants if you want your character to have a good experience, or New York's worst restaurants if you want it to go the other way. There are even links to make a reservation.You can check the menu out, see photos of the establishment and look at reviews. Maybe you'll find one tiny detail that adds more dimension to your story.

Just remember (as Collin tells us in the previous video) that there are five boroughs in New York. Your character will have a distinctly different experience in each of them.

Essentially, you can do the same sort of research for housing, local nightlife, transportation, etc.Get as specific as you can in minute details. But don't bog the reader down just to prove to them that you did your research.

Beer Garden: Greenwood Park

I wouldn't suggest writing a tourist's guide to New York this way, but you do have means at your disposal to add some dimension to your setting. Mention the lights, the bar stools, and maybe talk about the girl in the white tank top. She seems nice--a bit eager for her drink--but nice.

While the Internet is a valuable and accessible resource, it will also be great if you read books that are set in your city of choice. It's not okay to copy another writer's work, but you may be able to get a good idea of what other readers are interested in.

If you feel like research is not your thing and you decide to make up your own big city instead, that's fine. But you'll still have to research big cities in general, just so your readers are getting the big-city vibe. Don't be lazy about it. You'll turn off more readers than you bring in.

Blog off!

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I am crazy Cynthia 12:38 PM

I haven't been part of the writing community for a long time. There was a time that I attended writing conferences and workshops regularly, but then I got divorced and had to concentrate on working, going to school full time and paying bills. Lately, I've been missing the interaction with other writers, so I attended the League of Utah Writers Roundup in Park City.

Last night, I sat next to a woman who won a couple of awards for her writing. Almost everyone in the room, and especially those at her table, clapped for her. She mentioned how nice it was to be around fellow writers who understood and appreciated what it meant to be recognized for your accomplishments.

Creative writing is generally a solitary obsession. We sit in front of our computers and pound out genius. We read all the time, watch TV shows and movies for dialogue and plot tips, talk to ourselves, drink too much coffee, stay up too late, and waste money going to conferences. Generally, when you tell people you're a writer, the first thing they ask is what you've published and when you tell them that you haven't published anything, the conversation ends abruptly with an "oh." I don't have a terminal disease, I just haven't published anything. Unfortunately, this happens at writing conferences as well, where everyone should understand your situation. Last night the introductions followed this pattern:

"Hi, what's your name?" Looks at name tag. "Cynthia? That's pretty!"
"Thank you. And you're...Elaine?"
"Yes. I've been a member for five years. I've never seen you before. Where are you from?"
"Ogden, you?"
"Salt Lake City. What's your genre?"
"Adult sci-fi. Yours?"
"Mystery. What have you published?"
"I'm not published."
Beat.
"Oh."

I haven't published anything. There are a host of reasons why I haven't and "I'm not a good enough writer" is not in the list. It takes more than being "good" or even "great" to get published. People tell me to self-publish, but most of the people who pushed it at the conference had hired a whole team of people to edit their books, design them, and market them. They spend the bulk of their time marketing their book, and they're generally making sales because they legacy published first and got their names out there. I currently have 14 followers on Twitter, 20 followers of this blog, and 80 likes on facebook. This means that with my current marketing I could sell 30 copies of my awesome book if I self-publish and hope some other people accidentally purchase it while they're drunk and looking for something else.

Conclusion: My life as a writer would be much easier if I didn't feel the need to publish--if I could just write what I want and be happy with that, but as the link below proves, writers are crazy. (Warning swearing in URL and all over the Website. Don't look below if you're anti-badword! Don't look!) Below is an excerpt from the Creativity is Seen as a Commodity of the Lazy and Insane section, regarding what happens when you tell people you're a writer:

"You get a mixture of, Oh, he’s one of those, or, Look, another hipster-slacker-socialist-asshole stealing all our precious unemployment, or, He doesn’t look like he’s starving so he must have a trust fund keeping him alive, or, Ugh, that’s not a real job. Swamp logger, that’s a real job. Writer’s just something you say when you like to smoke drugs all day."

For those who would like to read more because its funny and foul, click the link below.

http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2012/02/07/25-reasons-that-writers-are-bug-fuck-nuts/

Blog off.