I signed up with this blog campaign, so I can network and meet other writers. At first I was afraid that I'd signed up too close to the deadline to be included. Now I'm worried that my blog might not be good enough to be included. As you've probably noticed, I haven't been blogging much of late and when I do I don't really say much of substance. I tell myself that this is because I'm tired dealing with the offspring, but really I've fallen in the trap of nihilistic self doubt. I have a little hater in my head that tells my that nobody cares what I have to say and typing anything is not worth the effort.
I feel the same way when writing my science fiction. Every time I sit down with my laptop, the little hater tells my that I'm wasting my time and no one will ever publish it. Even if my writing were as good as my friends claim it is (and let's face it, it probably isn't), brilliant writers are a dime a dozen. You need to have something more than a good idea and wicked wordsmith skills. I've been reading Daniel H. Wilson's Robopocolypse, a totally believable and positively riveting account of machines attempting, rather successfully, to annihilate the human race. Even if my robot book were as well-polished as Daniel's robot book (it's not), I would still be less likely to get published. Dan has a PhD is robotics, and I am an unemployed Star Trek nerd with two small children. You can almost hear Dan's credentials singing sweetly in his agent's ear, while I can quite clearly picture any agent I've pitched to rolling her eyes and yawning.
This gives me the idea that I should write something to do with art history, since that is what my degree is in. Aliens could take over the Sistene Chapel or something. Except that even though I loved my time in University (it was like grown-up kindergarten), the art history component was a necessary evil that bored me immensely. Even aliens couldn't spice it up.
And another thing. I put myself in the Science Fiction category of this blog campaign even though this blog has never been about science fiction. I feel the sudden need to add SF content to this volume of mildly amusing annecdotes about motherhood, but I'm have nothing to say on the subject (beyond what I'm writing in my books) and I'm not sure it would fit.
In the interest of adding SF content and introducing myself to a larger blogging and writing community, this is what my unpublished and depressingly untitled books are about (one sentence each, always a fun exercise):
My first book (which is finished, in that I have typed THE END) tells the story of a redheaded mechanic named Emily who rediscovers lost memories when she gets kidnapped by wardroid sexbots and taken to a post apocolyptic Earth, while her lovesick and slightly crude Commander (who also happens to be the clone of a robotics scientist) charges off to rescue her.
My second book (which I'm writing right now) follows a trisexual alien family (two husbands, one wife) as they deal with life in a matriarchal society with rigid gender roles, and (eventually) the birth of a human hybrid child.
If anyone out there wants to give me an unbiased account of how much my book sucks e-mail me and I'll send you as many pages as you can tolerate. If you want to suggest a title based on what little information I've given here, leave a comment below.