*cough* Why do I keep beating my head against the wall?

[shalanna]

Hey, we were talking about openings last time . . . here's a great article by a pro about The Art of the Start, or the beginning of your novel.

Today I have been sidelined by the Cold From Hell. And an allergy attack is going on, as well, I think, because my eyes are watering. Anyway, I missed our critique group at noon. I spent the afternoon on the couch with the dog, covered with squashed Kleenex and rejected mail-order catalogs, and imagined that I'd be okay by nightfall. But then, even though I thought I could make the organizational meeting of the Writers' League of Texas, as I had promised the other organizers, it was not to be. When hubby got home and I asked him to drive me over to the meeting, he refused and made me get back on the sofa and drink more hot tea.

Be that as it may, and I don't believe it ever is . . . I'm still beating my head against this brick wall ("Something there is that doesn't love a wall"). God does not intend for me to be publicated by NYC, apparently, but He doesn't have any other windows propped open nearby for me to jump out of, so what am I to do aside from cleaning up this terror of a house, which I can't possibly do? ("With these hands?")

So. Tonight I opened Eudora so I could e-mail my comments to my critique partners, and there was the rejection from Mr. Nice Guy Agent. Aaagghh . . . I'd had such hopes (as usual). Well, at least he remembered not to phone me, because I get too excited and am in danger of tinkling on the new carpet like the dog. He said my writing was good, as always, but he didn't LOVE the book.

I probably should have taken the hint and gone back to bed, but instead I looked at his website again, where it lists the genres he's now handling, and found "mystery" among them. So I punished him (grin) by sending an e-mail query for _Nice Work_. I gave him an out by saying that if he doesn't want to see more new stuff from me, just let me know. Otherwise, I suggested that if he'd tell me the book he would love, I'll write it. *grin*

[UPDATE: Already got the rejection. One thing you can say for this agent is, he's really prompt and doesn't leave you hanging. He points out that because he has now seen three of my novels and liked the writing but didn't care for the story, there's really no point in sending more stuff. That saves us both some time, I suppose. However, it tells me that people believe that if they don't like one of your stories, they probably won't like any of them. Just another daily punishment from the Universe, that's all. Lesson: You only get a couple of chances with each agent or editor, if that many, so this isn't an endless pursuit. There are only about twenty or so agents who keep coming up again and again when I look around for agents who carry what I write (and who have actually sold work, and who are recommended, etc.), so I'll be out of them pretty soon, unless some new ones start up before the end of the year. The end of the tunnel is in sight, and that light indeed was a train all along.]

I also sent an e-mail query for Camille to Brent Hartinger's agent and sent a follow-up to another agent who has had a partial of Miranda for a while.

I'm still typing away on the Fast Draft project. I asked my "group" (seven of us who are sending encouraging messages and page counts to each other daily) how long it takes each of them to type those twenty pages, and everyone hemmed and hawed. Most people are working on it in segments throughout the day. That works pretty well when you have other things to take care of every day.

Although what the hell am I doing, wasting more disk space? It's hard to understand why nothing's ever enough, especially when I just don't see the appeal of most of the books I pull out of the bookstore's stock at random. I am definitely out of synch. But then I always HAVE been.

"If a (wo)man does not keep pace with her/his companions, perhaps it is because (s)he hears a different drummer. Let him/her step to the music which he/she hears, however measured or far away."-- Henry David Thoreau, _Walden_ (popularized when it was alluded to in the classic 1960s rock song recorded by Linda Ronstadt, "Different Drum")

Steppin' to the beat of that different, offbeat drum. Admirable? Innovative? Individual? Perhaps. Perhaps it's our destiny.

But that don't mean it gon' be easy.
! ! !
THIS is hilarious. About a mosquito going after someone in the shower, from the mosquito's POV.

Comments

[rclementmoore.livejournal.com]

I never answered your question on my blog re: time it takes. To get 20 solid pages, I takes me 6-8 hours of work. Not all consecutively: the bulk in the afternoon, and then I finish up at night. Late. Like this post. :-)

[green-knight.livejournal.com]

He points out that because he has now seen three of my novels and liked the writing but didn't care for the story, there's really no point in sending more stuff. That saves us both some time, I suppose. However, it tells me that people believe that if they don't like one of your stories, they probably won't like any of them.

That's your selective view coming into play again.

He didn't base his judgement on _one_ story, he based it on _three_. Which, presumably, have sub plots, so he's seeing more than three ideas.

Presumably, there is some kind of pattern to them that he doesn't like, so it's up to you to find out what that is.