Wednesday, February 02, 2005

From the Depths

Every now and then I think of my lonely little blog sitting out here in the nether regions of the web, neglected and almost forgotten by its creator. Does it have existential angst? I doubt it, but I do feel guilty for neglecting it. Fortunately, it’s patient and always waiting for me when I come back to it.

So, news from my life: I am still trying to get my book published. I finally decided to name it Macbeth’s Witch. Actually, this was Celeste’s suggestion and I liked it. So, I can’t get her to read the damn thing but at least she named it.

There was one agent that I really hoped would pick me up. Of the ten or so queries that I sent out, she was the only one to respond with a manuscript request. Actually she only requested the first 30 pages but I was really excited. I was sure that she would be blown away by my story and would snatch me right up. Instead, she rejected it. This is the perfect addition to an already horrible week. So, I did a bit of searching on the internet last night for a good writer’s conference where I might be able to impress an agent. I came across
this article. It really got me to thinking. Basically, I am a completely forgettable person when you meet me. I am constantly being overwhelmed by doubt and self loathing and in social situations I look at my feet and mumble. People quickly lose interest and find somebody articulate with which to spend time. I’m not worth the effort for most. So, I’m in a roomful of writers, all exactly like me, and I think that some agent is going to be impressed with me? Not likely. My only hope is to gain some publishing credits THEN start querying agents again.

So, this morning I sent a query letter to a very small publishing company that is owned by my alma mater. I still live about 5 blocks from the school and one of their stated goals is to publish works by local writers. I think that I have a decent shot to get published by them.

And, I plan to set my novel length works aside and try to work on some short fiction until I hear back from the publisher. This way if I’m rejected I can quickly start trying for publication in magazines. It’s going to be a long, long road.

So, why was this a horrible week? Well, you know all of those little things about your job that really bother you? That little thing that your boss does from time to time that seems to serve no purpose but to remind you who’s the boss? Or that co-worker that really knows how to push your buttons? Or that stupid mistake that you made six months ago and you swore you would never repeat but you know that you will eventually? Now, imagine all of that coming down on you in one stinking Monday. That’s how my week started. I don’t live for the weekend anymore. I’m lucky if I can crawl to the end of the day intact.