Kim Neville

Cory Skerry tagged me in his Next Big Thing blog post and told me to talk about my WIP, then tag other authors and ask them to talk about their WIPs.

Answering these questions was difficult because “work-in-progress” is a stretch. What I describe below is more of a work-barely-conceived. But it’s the thing I’m currently obsessing over so here you go.

Ten Interview Questions for The Next Big Thing

1. What is the title of your Work in Progress?

Magpie

2. Where did the idea come from for the book?

I’m interested in hoarding and collecting and how we imbue objects with magical properties through our connections to them. I tried to express some of my ideas around this in a story at Clarion West but between the one-week deadline and the specter of George R. R. Martin hovering over my shoulder while I typed, they came out all misshapen and half-baked. After the workshop I decided to scrap the story and try a fresh take with a novel in mind.

3. What genre does your book fall under?

Contemporary fantasy. Maybe YA, maybe not.

4. Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

Ev is a girl with a knack for finding trash and selling it as treasure at the Chinatown Night Market. After way too much time fruitlessly Google-searching Asian actresses, I finally settled on an eighteen year-old version of Sook-Yin Lee. This has less to do with her acting skills and more to do with her real-life awesomeness.

Audie is the Protector of All Things Shiny. OR she’s a crazy hoarder lady. Depends who you ask. I imagine her played by Emma Thompson but if pressed I’d also concede to Helena Bonham-Carter.

5. What is a one-sentence synopsis of the book?

A junk seller and a hoarder clash over a collection of magical objects.

6. Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

Get an agent is Plan A. I haven’t really thought beyond Plan A.

7. How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?

Um. I haven’t actually started the writing part yet. But the first draft will totally be finished by the end of this year.

Shut up.

8. What other books would you compare this story to in your genre?

Cory’s already eating cupcakes with Holly Black, so I’ll say it’d be swell to be compared to the likes of Charles de Lint, Francesca Lia Block or Hiromi Goto.

9. Who or what inspired you to write this book?

When I was in Seattle this summer, a group of us went on an early Sunday morning walk. I watched one of my new friends interact with her environment as we toured UW campus. The attention she paid to colors, textures, shapes and smells was captivating. Everything was touched and deeply appreciated. I walked. She engaged in a reciprocal relationship with the world. It made me think about how human love and appreciation for an object gives it value. Which led to thoughts about what happens when objects absorb so much emotion, positive or negative, that they begin to take on a life of their own. And how might such objects react when they come into contact with a person hyper-attuned to that life?

10. What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

It’s set in Vancouver, because I love fantasies set in real-life cities and because I think Vancouver could use a little more magic. Also, it’s the first novel I’ve written that does not contain fairies.

Include the link of who tagged you and this explanation for the people you have tagged.

Cory Skerry tagged me. You should check out his blog and also follow him on Twitter because he’s funny and brilliant.

I’m tagging a few of my favourite writer friends, who now have a week (give or take) to post their answers.

Blythe Woolsten is a sublime human and also the author of Freak Observer and Catch and Release.

Karen Woodward writes urban fantasy and blogs extensively about the business and craft of writing fiction.

Kim Aippersbach posts fabulous YA & MG book reviews over at Dead Houseplants and writes stories too, when she doesn’t have her nose in a book.

Actually, I’ve been home for almost four weeks but I’ve been having a hard time sitting down and writing about it. I’m not sure what to say. I tell everyone who asks that it was amazing, totally worth it, I learned a ton. All of that’s true and at the same time inadequate.

I expect I’ll write about some of what I learned over the next few months, once I’ve had a chance to process it. Until then, here’s a photo of me, at the end of Week Five, looking ridiculously happy to be in a kayak. Which I was. Probably I wore that blissed out expression a lot during the six weeks. It was that good.

Right now what I feel is an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I’m grateful for the generosity of my incredible teachers and the workshop organizers, for the divine chemistry of my class, which turned out to be full to the brim with talented and fabulous humans, for the wholehearted support of the wider CW community. And I’m especially grateful for my family, who made so many sacrifices to allow me to take advantage of this opportunity. Thank you, everyone.

Although it’s not been very spring-like in Vancouver this week, the flowers haven’t been deterred by hailstorms or snow flurries and, at our house at least, there’s been a rush of renewal and excitement. Reconnections with old friends and estranged family members. Shiny New Things on the horizon. Release of the first two episodes of The Legend of Korra and The Hunger Games movie (!) on the same weekend. Daffodils!

So many lovely distractions. It’s enough to keep a writer from finishing that pesky old first draft.

I’m approximately 88.5% done. Next week I will finish. I have blogged it, and so it will be.

I’m almost done the first draft of as-yet-unnamed changeling novel. And I’m reluctant to get to the end. Not sure why. Maybe because once I do I’ll have to acknowledge the messiness and incompleteness of what I’ve made. That while I may have arrived at the story’s end, I’m far from finished.

I’ve used a few disruptions to my routine as excuses to put off the work. It’s been almost a week since I’ve written a word. As a result, I am grumpy. Because the only thing worse than slogging through the last ten thousand words is not doing so and missing my deadline. I hate letting myself down.

So. Enough grumbling. Back to work.

A while ago at preschool my daughter was learning to tie bows. That day was a birthday for one of the other children and the class was gathering for a celebration. When the teacher asked if my daughter would like to join in, she said no.

“If I’m going to get this right,” she said, “I’ve got to practice.”

I love that kid.

It’s not hard to figure out where she learned this. Just go read my husband’s excellent blog post on choosing your work. It got me thinking about practice and how the concept of “work” has gotten a bad reputation.

My daughter goes to a Montessori preschool. Every day the children are expected to choose their own work. And yes, they call it work. Whether it’s fitting together puzzles or playing bells or polishing silver, it’s purposeful activity — i.e., work.

I’m so glad my daughter is learning early to value work. The prevailing attitude in our culture seems to be that it’s a necessary evil. You go to your job and put in your time so you can collect a paycheque, pay the bills and get on with life. Life — the stuff that happens outside of work.

In our house, work is inextricably linked with home. There is no “life” outside of work. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. My husband is an indie game developer and a consultant. The bulk of his work happens at home. I work part-time outside the home and I write at home whenever I can: while my daughter’s in school, in the evenings, on weekends.

Our work earns us money, of course, but it also brings us personal satisfaction and a sense of accomplishment. When I tell people I work every Saturday, I get grimaces in return. (And yeah, some Saturdays I’d rather be at the beach. But I try to keep a balance between the beach days and the writing ones.) I suppose if I said I was writing a novel I’d get a different reaction.

Except writing is work. It’s hard. It’s also important to me. Calling it work gives it more weight. It signals to me and to others that what I’m doing is serious.

Just because something is hard doesn’t mean it’s unpleasant. Learning to knit or play ukelele is work. Growing an herb garden is work. Training for a marathon is work.

Anything worth doing requires work.

My daughter is still practicing her bows. They’re tricky, but she’s almost got them down. And, for the record, she did concede to a birthday cookie that day (she’s not a complete ascetic).

Now if only my family (me included) could extend our healthy attitude towards work to include house-cleaning.