From the moment earlier this week when I heard that The New Yorker was running a long article on Mormonism in its new issue, I had a sinking feeling this was going to happen. Last night I found the rejection letter in the mailbox: Thank you for your letter and
This email I received today refers to my other web site, www.shunn.net, but it's exactly the sort of this I need to get used to hearing, particularly once the book comes out: Date: Wed, 16 Jan 2002 09:56:31 -0600 From: STDGAJ11@shsu.edu To:
My cousin, who lives in northern Utah, belongs to a small reading circle who read a book and discuss it together every month or so. Her turn to suggest a book is coming up in a few months, and she wrote yesterday to ask me if she could suggest Missionary
Two items this time around, one writing- but not book-related, the other neither writing- nor book-related. First, my novelette "Dance of the Yellow-Breasted Luddites" has made the preliminary ballot for this year's Nebula Awards, selected by the Science Fiction Writers of America. SFWA members will vote
Writing a book is easy. Writing a query letter is hard. After putting off the task all during the holidays, I tackled the first query letter yesterday. Not that I hadn't been thinking for days already about what to say. I spent three hours struggling over it yesterday,
[To get these special notices in email, sign up for the Missionary Man mailing list.] Just a short note to wish you all the best on Christmas and a blissfully pleasant New Year. The one we're leaving behind has been a doozy, and let's all hope
I've set myself a couple of tasks for the remainder of the week. I'll note them down here for the sake of a little greater accountability. First off, I'm hoping to use a verse from the Eurythmics' "Missionary Man" as an
It's been an eventful couple of weeks here on the writing front. I'll get the bad news out of the way first. My agent Shawna queried the excellent small press Four Walls Eight Windows about whether or not they'd be interested in seeing Missionary
How many writers have felt the frustration of toiling for months or years on a book, only to helplessly commit the finished manuscript into someone else's hands for the next necessary stage in its life? Like a parent sending a child to college, you have little control over
previous: Exit 6: Provo, Utah I returned from my two-week stint at B.Y.U. full of piss and vinegar. At least, that's what my parents seemed to think. As I dove into my senior year of high school, my parents complained to me more and more often
previous: Exit 5: Kaysville, Utah Of course, things would have been much worse for me had lovely Lia actually reciprocated my feelings. But dammit, I had no such luck. Perhaps we should pause here for a moment or two. I don't think I've really managed yet
previous: Exit 4: Bountiful, Utah We've got a lot of ground to cover in this section, so keep up and stick close. It was the middle of January 1978 when we moved the ten or so miles up Interstate 15 from Bountiful to Kaysville. We had a bigger
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