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Blake
Hutchins being greeted at the
San Diego airport
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The
Writers of the Future workshop was held in the resort
town of Carlsbad, CA
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At
the Hilton Garden Inn
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"Now
that the furor and excitement of the Writers of the Future workshop
and award ceremony for Volume XXII is over, I'm able to settle
down and put some perspective on the experience. So much was
happening this last week, so much information and advice came
down the pipe, that absorbing it all is a bit like trying to
read a newspaper during a blizzard.
I'd
come prepared and reasonably confident, albeit with frissons
of anxiety over the Gold Award, since as a first place winner
I was eligible for that final piece of the competition. I had
attended last year's event, having already received the word
on my winning submission by that time. As a member of the Wordos
writers' group in Eugene, OR, I'd had plenty of exposure to
the contest and thought I had a reasonably good idea of what
to expect from the week.
Just goes to show how much difference exists between arm's length
"knowledge" and direct experience.
Right
from the first moment of being picked up at the airport, the
cameras and attention caught me off-guard. But Author Services
and Galaxy Press really make you feel like a rock star.
And
in speaking of my fellow winners, if you had to ask what the
best part of the experience was for me, it was making friends
with all these cool, very talented people. I'm just completely
blown away and proud to be numbered in their company. Right
now I'm still making my way through the anthology, but so far
the creativity and skill in the stories staggers me. We started
out strangers and became bonded in an extraordinary way by week's
end. I'm excited to stay in touch with each and every one of
my fellow winners. Everyone was gracious and fun and sharp;
the experience truly took on dimensions of a homecoming. Incredible.
The workshop represented the cornerstone part of the week for
me. Learning craft from Tim Powers and K.D. Wentworth, getting
tips, advice and pep talks from giants in the field like David
Brin, Kevin J. Anderson, Sean Williams, and Jerry Pournelle
provided both perspective and clarity to this uncertain venture
of writing. The workshop materials featured sage advice from
L. Ron Hubbard as well, which tied in nicely to the stuff
we were hearing.
On
a personal note, I'm a longtime Tim Powers fan, so getting to
know 'Powers' and exchange quips with him in person couldn't
have been more surreal. I'd read The Drawing of the Dark
back in high school (when Powers himself was, uh, only fifteen,
of course), and still consider it one of my favorite fantasies.
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Contest judges Tim Powers and KD Wentworth led the week-long
Writers of the Future workshop |
David Brin gave one of the most energetic, inspiring talks I've
ever heard on any subject. Another personal high note for me,
considering how blown away I'd been by his novels, Sundiver,
Startide Rising, and The Postman.
A
big piece of the value in the workshop experience involves putting
faces to well-known names, hearing about the behind-the-scenes
struggles and decisions, and receiving the message that we winners
are professionals who have "cracked the wall" and
can continue to perform in the industry if we're disciplined
and willing to work hard. I think we all sort of believed that
coming in, but also sort of didn't. In that context, the workshop
can be a crucial tipping point.
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David
Brin addressing the
Writers of the Future Workshop
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Blake
inspecting the object he was given to write a story for |
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Anne
McCaffrey at the Writers of the Future Workshop |
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Kevin
J. Anderson on the
business of writing |
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Former
winner, now Contest Judge,
Sean Williams at the Workshop |
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"The
Sword from the Sea"
Illustrated by Nathan Taylor
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For
me, the Writers of the Future experience resembles a door opening
to a whole new country. I taught myself to read at the age of
two, wrote my first story as a first-grader, and stumbled across
Andre Norton's Star Rangers in fourth grade. I became
an avid fantasy and sci-fi reader, wrote some stories in college,
kept tinkering on the side while I got a professional education
in teaching and later in law. Although I'd always aspired to
write, I continually did the "sensible" thing and
pursued other careers. Lately I'd been a senior VP in the software
industry, a well-paying job in a terrific company—but
I was miserable. Winning the contest came at the right time,
since my wife and I had been considering exit strategies to
a simpler, more spiritually satisfying lifestyle. I'm not under
any illusions about the economics of being a writer; the workshop
speakers all had plenty of ground truth on that subject. Nevertheless,
I'm committed to this effort for now, and the week with the
Writers of the Future workshop and ceremony is like jet fuel
to my confidence. I'm really thankful for it. I finally feel
ready to throw myself into my various novel and story projects.
Other
high points from the week (and there were many): meeting my
illustrator, Nathan Taylor, and seeing what he had done for
my story, "The Sword from the Sea". I'd worked with
artists in the video game industry, and I thought I was pretty
jaded. I mean, I'd had character sketches and concept stories
transformed into three-D artwork and portraits. I expected to
be excited, but not overly so. Again, my expectations were off
the scale wrong. Nathan's piece didn't just blow me away. It
ignited me, burned me to a crisp, fired me into space, froze
me into a bug-eyed popsicle, and slammed me back onto the floor
of the hotel room with my jaw vibrating somewhere around my
ankles. He'd captured every essential element of my story in
a dynamic collage that caught the attention of everyone around
us.There was a lot of great art produced by the illustrators,
naturally, but I had any number of people view Nathan's work
and declare how much they wanted to read my story.
If the workshop was the cornerstone of the week, the awards
ceremony provided the capstone. We were all a bit nervous about
the event; we'd been told a thousand people would attend, and
the cameras would be rolling to document every last moment.
Then too, we still had the Gold Award to consider. By that time,
the other first place winners had become my friends, and we'd
passed through a vague anxiety-ridden stage combined with an
undercurrent of competition into a place where we didn't want
anyone to lose. I was reasonably confident my story was a contender,
but Diana Rowland, Michail Velichansky, and Brandon Sigrist
were all formidable talents, so one couldn't be sure of anything.
When Brandon won, my overriding reaction was one of relief.
That last unknown resolved, I could only feel excitement and
happiness for Brandon. His story, "Life on the Voodoo Driving
Range," was brilliant, a real jewel of a story. It contains
that smoky yet satisfying bitterness redolent of a good Scotch.
If the judges had been more in the mood for a draught of cold
sea water, they might have picked mine, but they weren't and
they didn't, and that's fine. I'm honored to have stood in the
company of those other first place winners—with all the
winners, really. The second place finisher in my quarter, David
Sakmyster, wrote a very cool, introspective mood piece tinged
with horror and romance; the sort of thing I'm not sure I could
write.
One
insight that came out of this experience was how differently
we all write and how we each bring different strengths to the
page. I consider myself pretty versatile, but the other writers
all produced cool stuff I'd have been hard-pressed to do myself.
So
I'm coming out of the workshop with a fire in my belly, albeit
with my feet firmly on the ground. My plate spilleth over with
future projects. I have ninety short stories in my folder, about
thirty in rewrite, the others at various unfinished stages.
At last count, I have nine novel concepts, three in progress.
Nate and I are noodling over a small collaboration. And finally,
I have a couple of non-fiction books in mind. My plan is to
expand my winning story into a novel and possibly more than
one, depending on how the initial book shapes up.
Kevin
J. Anderson recommended the popcorn style of writing: put a
bunch of popcorn in the pan and work on it all at once. Shuffling
your attention among the projects keeps you fresh, and eventually
numerous kernels will pop. I guess that's what I'm about. My
immediate plans as I write this are to attend World Con in Los
Angeles right on the heels of the workshop, then return to Eugene
and write like crazy.
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Booksigning
at the Mysterious Galaxy bookstore in San Diego |
If
I had to sum it up, I'd say the two greatest gifts of this experience
were the friendships made, both among fellow winners and industry
pros, and the profound confidence-building impact. I finally
feel like a pro ready to hit the ground running, and I'm grateful
to have had the opportunity. At 43, I've wondered whether I'm
getting too late a start, despite reading that L. Frank Baum,
creator of The Wizard of Oz and its numerous sequels, wrote
the first Oz book at 42 and didn't publish it until he was 44.
So what I do with my career is what I make of it.
Bottom
line is, I feel far more confident, as though I now have a yardstick
for what it takes to be published. And I have L. Ron Hubbard's
Writers of the Future Contest to thank for that boost.
It's been a fantastic experience. —Blake Hutchins
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The Writers and Illustrators of the Future Winners and
Judges, 2006
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