sailing toward the boookshelves on a raft made of Triscuits

Tags

crackers, getting published, manuscript requests, querying, rejections, writing

I got about 200 words in yesterday. (I blame the migraine, in part, but unfortunately I can’t land all the blame on the migraine, because it went away eventually.) I hate days like that: days when the story is still taking shape in your head, or maybe just sitting on your mental couch, watching BTVS reruns and not doing much of anything, and putting anything coherent on the page is like trying to pilot a raft made of crackers — it just keeps coming apart under you before you can get anywhere.

(Yes, I am eating crackers, why do you ask?)

Anyway, I was describing this process to a friend a little while back: you know, The Whole Damn Mess. The awkward, messy beginnings, the Dreaded Middles, the OMGTHISISAWESOMESO WHYCAN’TIFINISH? endings — the rewrites, the agonizing synopses, the nervy, hopeful, terrified feeling of waiting to see how badly your betas shred your baby (sorry, guys; I know I just made you sound like a pack of wolves there, when you’re much more like a trauma team in the ER). The jittery, endless query letter drafts. The painstaking agent research. The leap off the cliff, and then that lovely waiting: will the hang glider work, or are you about to plant yourself several feet deep into the planet? The slap in the face of that first rejection, the learning curve –the next rewrite, the next query letter, the next rejection, the first request; hope, despair, too much chocolate, an endless parade of martinis. More letters. More rejections. More requests. More martinis.

Then that amazing, wonderful, fabulous day when you get the offer, open that bottle of champagne that’s been sitting in the fridge for more than a year at this point and bruise the hell out of your shins dancing wildly around your living room.

And then –oh hey!– you get to start pretty much from awkward, messy beginning and repeat the whole thing, only with higher stakes, longer waiting periods, and possibly deadlines. Also a much better bottle of champagne should you get to the end point in the second round.

When you put it that way it kind of makes you wonder why you didn’t take up stamp collecting, doesn’t it?

And yet.

1. I wrote a line yesterday, in that sad 200 word count bunch, that still makes me laugh out loud every time I read it.
2. My new MC is in for a hell of a ride according to this plot.
3. I reread WEAVE this weekend and was astonished by how good I think it is.
4. I think I can do this.

It’s certainly not the easiest hobby/job/vocation/calling/whatever, writing novels. It’s a bitch, actually. But it has its moments. And those moments make it all worth it, at least for me. So here I am for the nonce, I guess: kneeling on trisciuts, paddling frantically, trying to keep it all together on the way down the rapids. It would be worse: I could be bored.

/sappiness

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ah, glorious routine

Tags

agents, daily routine, habit, querying, rejections, Sledgehammer is awesome, writing, writing routine

Mood: content (yeah, I know, let’s see how long it lasts;))

Listening to: Peter Gabriel’s Sledgehammer

Drinking: vanilla-cinnamon cappuccino

…Don’t look at me like that, Sledgehammer is a thing of awesome.

Same-old here: still querying, getting the occasional R and the occasional request (I like those latter ones much better, of course); still trying to get my head back in the chosen WIP of the moment, which as of now looks to be my YA fantasy set in Elizabethan England –but may, at any moment, change to my modern-day UF, because I’m just crazy like that. Still going to the gym 4 days out of 7, and enjoying the effects of my newly-discovered running-2-miles-backwards-uphill-on-the-elliptical technique (yes, I know everyone’s been doing this for a long time; I’m slow, okay?).  Still running at a full sprint at work. Still getting used to this whole “summer” thing too: hell, even when it’s not nice out it’s still nice out. It’s bewildering.

My days don’t look too hugely different from each other, is what I’m saying.

Hollywood tells us this is boring: and they’re not always wrong, but they’re rarely right, at least about this. I get up at the same time each day; I have my coffee up here while I write something every day; I go to the gym at the same time; I get home around the same time; The Dogginess gets her walk after dinner, etc., etc. Rinse-repeat.

I sound like I’m complaining, but I’m not: we break it up often enough to make this routine seem comforting, and knowing what to expect means my head’s already where it has to be out of sheer habit.

Being a writer, and one with a certain (if far-to-often-ignored) sense of personal discipline, having my head where it needs to be, even if it’s just out of habit, is a damned good thing. Right now, while my brain is still stuck on WEAVE because it’s out there in the world being scrutinized, and on SWORD and SONG because I’m thinking of some serious overhauling there, and on everything else happening in my life– the fact that I come up here with my coffee every morning and my wine every evening at the same time means that even when most of my neurons are working on other things, I can still write.

I may not write much, and I may not write anything I’ll want to keep later, but this is one of those habits I want to cling to, even if it sucks: even if what ends up on the page is a dream-sequence prologue with a Mary Sue farmgirl finding out she’s a freaking princess.As long as I’m moving forward I’ll –well, keep moving forward.

Routine can be a good thing. Boring, on occasion; and routine should definitely be shaken up often enough so it doesn’t become that other r-word of habit, rut, but too-much-of-a-good-thing applies just about anywhere.

rejection Friday: bad outfits

Tags

Amy is strange, bad outfits, bermuda shorts, Birkenstocks, querying, rejections, writing

Well, I kind of skipped a few posts there –all right, all right, about a week’s worth. Sorry. It’s 80 degrees in June in Maine: I know I should be worrying about global climate change, or whatever we’re calling it now, but after last year’s 5 measly days of summer this is heaven, and I’m spending every free moment of it outside enjoying myself.

Not the best excuse, as I have a laptop, but give a girl some time to adjust. 🙂

Anyway. It’s that time again. You know what I’m talking about.

Dear Human,

Thank you for your wardrobe submission. I find the premise interesting and certainly original, and I think you have some talent for color combinations — but your choice of Bermuda shorts and floral print camisole felt forced to me, and paired with the Birkenstock sandals the effect was less than impressive. To be honest I think that it would take more time and effort than I can currently afford to invest to bring your appearance to a level of style that I feel would be presentable. You need to work much harder on your pairing of button-down shirts and capris, and I think a complete overhaul of your shoe closet is in order. Do you have a friend or two who can take you shopping? I think honest feedback early in the process would help you a great deal.

That said, I did enjoy the earrings and the belt, and if you are willing to work on the things I mentioned I’d be happy to look at a revised outfit at a later date.

Best of luck,

The Style Police

the upside of querying

Tags

gambling, literary agents, querying, rejections, relaxing, requests, synopsis, writing

…Yes, there is one. Actually there are several, and I’m not even counting the possibility of getting an agent, which is a pretty major bonus if you can pull it off.

I’m still in the squinty-eyed, stumbling, oh-god-where’s-my-coffee phase of the morning, so I shall stop trying to be clever and just list them:

Upside the first: I no longer feel guilty about taking a month-or-so break from writing. I’m still doing something productive here, something that requires plenty of my attention and that still feels like forward motion.

Upside the second: I have a very decent and somewhat concise synopsis now. Querying makes you get organized about your book.

Upside the third: I read three books and got into two new TV shows this weekend. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to relax and enjoy those forms of entertainment.

Upside the fourth: feedback from professionals. As I said in my last post, even a short rejection is a beautiful thing if it gives you a reason why. And a request is just altogether lovely.

Upside the fifth: it’s fun. Yes, really. Even when you get stomped on (gently, and professionally), it’s still fun. I don’t really get much out of gambling, but what I get out of this is much like what I expect some people get out of playing roulette: there’s a certain thrill in putting yourself out there and waiting to see what happens.

Anyway. I am feeling all positive and upbeat this Monday morning, as you can see. Here’s hoping it lasts. 🙂

ready-set-jump

Tags

feedback, finding an agent, outline, query letter, rejections, support group, synopsis, writer friends

Well, after a long and rather rowdy weekend, here I am, all prettified and ready for work.

…Yes, really. 🙂

This despite being up an hour later than my usual bed time, because I decided (after many months of waffling) that I was just making excuses for myself… so, being a rational and non-impulsive creature, I thought hard about it, decided I needed a lesson, and I made myself send out two queries last night.

It’s different this time.

It’s different because I have a better idea of what a good query looks like; because I have an amazing support group of writers that also know what a good query looks like, and aren’t afraid to tell me when mine isn’t there yet. Because I also have a better idea what a good manuscript looks like, and also see above statement about amazing writer group. It’s different because I know better how to research agents now; where to look, who to ask, what to take seriously and what to ignore. And I know what I’m looking for in an agent: I know what I want. I’m going to go slow, no matter how OMGICAN’TWAITTOGETTHISPARTOVERWITH I actually feel –I’m going to do this in teensy waves, and see what I get back, if I’m lucky enough to get feedback with the Rs, if they say the same thing.

It’s also harder this time, probably because of all of the above: I wouldn’t go so far as to say I know what I’m doing, but I have a much better idea than I did last time of the process, how long it takes, what the stakes are, etc..

*cringe*

So anyway. The next week or so will be dedicated to research, query-sending, and, god help me, writing a synopsis and possibly an outline, because you never know when you’re going to need one of those.

Wish me luck.

On Craft and Caring

Tags

#queryfail, agentfail, agents, caring about your work, craft, critiques, feedback, getting published, rejections, sensitive writers, writing

There’s a pretentious title for you, eh? Sorry, I’m feeling slightly ugh today, and this is all I got.

I was catching up on Nathan Bransford’s  blog this morning and read this piece on writers and sensitivity. It was such good subject for a post that I felt like doing my own about it. Nathan’s post was interesting for the same reason many agents’ twitter feeds and blogs are interesting to me: it gives me a glimpse of what a day in the life of an agent is like, and the more of those I read, the more it sounds to me like agents take a lot of abuse from querying writers. Or, at minimum, some abuse that’s fairly memorable.

And this isn’t a surprise, is it? Anyone who was watching the fascinating mass-hissyfit that was #queryfail and then #agentfail got a pretty good look at what frustrated, rejected writers + public feedback + internet anonymity can add up to.

(In some cases, I should say. Not in all cases, or even most cases. I think the majority of We Who Query know how to take it on the chin without flinching: but the few who do have something angry to say often say it so loudly that the rest of us are kind of invisible by comparison.)

So here’s where I’ll just come out and say it: I get it. I’m sensitive about my writing.

That’s a no-brainer for me. I care about these characters. I spend endless hours thinking about word choice, theme, plot, you-name-it– I come up with a plot I like and an MC I love, and I jump in heart-first and I don’t look back till I hit THE END. I take it personally. I can’t not: if I didn’t care this much, I just don’t see how I could expect anybody else to. Now, I don’t think that’s a requirement to be dubbed a writer, and I know some very good writers who don’t feel this way… but it does seem to be a pretty common stage in the process, one that maybe some of us don’t ever leave.

And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. Frankly, I think I work best this way.

~And now for the but!~

But... I do think there’s something wrong with letting that get in the way of 1) your learning curve, and 2) your career. If you can’t take a critique because to you it feels like a personal attack, then not only have you just wasted both your time and somebody else’s, but you don’t have much hope of getting better. If getting a rejection from an agent or editor is as painful to you as getting dumped… well, then maybe you should think about another way to pass the time, say stamp collecting. Because once other human beings are allowed into the weird little world(s) you built, you’re going to get kicked in the teeth at least a couple times. It’s inevitable. Get used to the idea. Pitch a fit about it and you can expect people will remember that about you first, and your talent second.

Care. By all means care: care till your eyes pop out and you bleed ink. You may get over that after a while (well okay, if your eyes actually pop out you may not), or it may stay with you forever. Just remember that when you move out of the messing-around-with-it realm into the I’d-like-to-get-paid-for-this realm, you’ve got to check your ego at the door. Out here very few people have time to make you feel better: out here honesty and bluntness are virtues, and if you listen long enough you will come to see them that way too. Because there’s always room for improvement, and for every fifty people who say no, if you’re lucky and patient and serious about your work, there may be that one who says yes. And that one is all it takes.