The Starving Novelist
 
I have decided to take a break from the querying process.  In the past month and a half, I have sent out 54 queries.  I have gotten 20 rejections, one partial request (rejected), one full request (response pending), and 32 no repsonses.  I know, I know . . . I'm not supposed to get discouraged- just keep on trucking!  Right?  Except for the fact that I can feel the life getting sucked out of me everytime I sit down to do it.  I was also starting to slack off.  Sure I'd peruse the agency's website and make sure I sent my query to the right agent, but that was the extent of my "research."  I no longer checked to see what books he/she represented, or what the agency's commision rate was.  I even commited the query cardinal sin- I sent one out with the wrong agent's name on it.  Yep, I was suffering from query burn-out.  So, I have decided to take a sort of sabatical.  I'm not in the right frame of mind to send out queries right now.  I'm not giving up, just giving my spirits a much needed rest. 

In the meantime, I am doing some major brainstorming (or in my case- daydreaming) for my next novel.  After going through this process of trying to get published, I'm feeling very confused on which route I should go.  I REALLY want to make a living at writing, so do I write what's "in" and popular?  You know, put my own two fingers on the pulse of america?  OR, do I write what's inside of me . . . the stuff that oozes naturally from me?  Young Adult is a popular genre, but the idea of going back to high school, even if just mentally, makes my skin crawl.  Oh, and there's always vampires, demons, wizards, and werewolves . . . hmmm . . . RELAX, that was a joke!  Seriously, there's got to be a life-span on that stuff. 
 
I still have about a month left before I start on my next novel, so maybe some wonderul idea for a book will just come to me . . . maybe in a dream . . . (some Stephenie Meyer humor there).  I have an idea in my head that keeps shifting and growing, and no matter how many others keep popping into my head, this one seems to overwhelm and take over all those little ideas, so maybe this will be the one.  When it comes down to it- I am who I am, and I can only write what's inside.  No matter what, a book can't be forced, and as a writer, it's my duty to give it that sense of honesty.     
 
   
 
Waiting is something you do a lot of when you're trying to get published.  Queries get emailed (or snail-mailed) to agents- some respond within minutes, some respond within weeks, and some have the "no-response-means-not-interested" rule, which I despise by the way- I'd rather get the four word rejection (not for me, thanks) than no rejection at all.  However, waiting to hear back from a query is nothing compared to the nail biting, obsessively checking your email, heart pounding type of anxiety that ensues after sending off a partial or full submission. 

About a month ago, I got my first request for a partial submission.  It was literally the happiest moment of my short writing career.  Not because I had six-figure visions floating in my head, but because I had actually piqued someone's interest.  The query that I had wrestled with for over two weeks must be half-way decent!  

After putting together a synopsis (which is another type of personal torture for me- I'll explain why another day) and polishing up my first three chapters, I emailed the submission package to the agent.  Then the waiting started.  Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending how you look at it), I didn't have to wait very long.  A couple of weeks later I received a very nice rejection letter telling me that even though he thought "elements of the project were appealing," the conflict wasn't substantial enough.  Now, for the part that I can only explain as divine intervention- as soon as I closed that email, there was another message from an agent requesting a full. 

Of course, the dissapointment from my rejection kept me from getting too excited about the request.  Also, after looking at some statistics on querytracker.net, I noticed she'd requested fulls from 90% of the queries she'd received (she's a new agent).  Needless to say, my hopes aren't that high.  Regardless, the request was enough to keep me from crying myself to sleep that night!  

Luckily, this uber agent is a speed reader (literally- self proclaimed ten pages per minute!).  According to her blog, she plans on having the majority of the manuscripts read by October 6th (TODAY!), and will start contacting writers then (with rejections AND offers of representation). 

Now, I'm not a pessimist, but I am a realist.  I'm not expecting an offer- not because I don't think my manuscript is good, but because I don't think it's what the MAJORITY of agents are looking for.  When I wrote my novel, I wrote what was in me . . . what I wanted to write- with no regard for what was "in", or what agents were looking for.  Do I think my story is good?  Yes.  Do I think there is a market for it?  Definetly.  Do I think there are agents out there that would love it?  Of course!  The problem is finding them.  

Regardless of the outcome, I am super excited and thrilled that I piqued someone's interest with my query, and that person is actually going to read my manuscript (if not all of it, at least some of it).  If nothing else, I'm hoping to gain some feedback.  As long as the criticism is constructive, I'll be okay.  However, if she tells me the writing was hopelessly terrible?  Well . . . you can't bet I'll be crying myself to sleep that night ;o)

  

    
 
About four years after making the decision to stay home full-time with my children, I found myself going through a mid-life crisis.  This caused a depression that hit me with a vengence.  I couldn't help wondering if this was it.  Had I worked my tail off for four years in college just to be a dowdy stay-at-home soccer mom?  Is this all I would accomplish in life- being a someone's wife and mother?  Don't get me wrong, I don't regret my decision to leave my career, and I still believe being there for your children is the greatest thing you can do with your life.  BUT, I was ready for more.  I started thinking about what I wanted out of life.  The number one thing was, I didn't want to have any regrets.  I wanted to do the one thing I had promised myself years ago- write a novel. 

I have always had a vast imagination.  As a child, I did not just comb my Barbies' hair and change their clothes; my Barbies lived lives of soap-operatic proportion.  I would play for hours at a time.  I also remember writing being a big deal in elementary school (unfortunately math and science got pushed to the wayside), and I often won small writing contests.  In high school, I even had several poems and a short story published in the school's literary magazine. 

There is no doubt, I've always been drawn to writing, especially during times of struggle.  However, writing a novel was like my personal Mt. Everest.  It was one of those things I always said I wanted to do, but never had the confidence or enough determination to do it.  Like they say though, once you hit rock bottom the only way you can go is up.  This novel would be my life perserver.   

After I made this decision to write, I started to feel that familiar drive and determination within me.  I started writing on my thirty-third birthday.  I'm not going to say it was easy- I LITERALLY prayed every night for the strength and determination to continue and not give up- but I soon found myself loving it (well, for the most part- there were times I wanted to throw my laptop out the window).  I also don't want to be corny and say that writing this book saved me, but it did give me something to aspire towards.  I needed to feel that sense of accomplishment again, and this book gave me that. 

About seven months after starting it, I finished it.  Next came two months of editing and having a couple trusted people (my mom and my BFF) read it.  Finally, I was ready for the querying process.  The querying process . . . hmmm . . . on the other hand, let me stop there, because as any writer will tell you, the querying process is a whole other animal, so I think I'll save that for another blog.