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Tuesday, May 18, 2010

If I Have To Be Some Kind Of A Moron I Choose To Be An Oxymoron

Well, here I am again, working on the blog instead of the short story I've been so excited about (Chad the Impaler)

Yeah so last week I decided that it was time to cowgirl up and actually send my book (look, I'm just going to call it KMS from here on out) somewhere. Pat on the back for me, I compiled the first 50 pages of KMS as instructed and sent it, a check for $30 and the entrance form to Killer Nashville. I have no clue if they've received it or not.

I also cowgirled up and sent ten query letters out to my chosen agents. Three swift rejections so far- they were polite and professional- I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. Queries stuck out in the Limberlost are like bullets hurdling through space- likely to hit when I least expect them and sting like a son of a gun.

I am distressed, disappointed, somewhat disgruntled and utterly discouraged.

"What did you expect S.H.?" asked my husband, N.S.S.H. (not so... well you get it)

"Nothing, I guess." I lied. I expected my brilliant, polished, endlessly researched query letter to attract the top agents in my genre. It was damn good bait I'm telling you. Well, pretty good. OK, probably not good enough or I would have at least a little nibble.

"Oh S.H. we dream about query letters like yours. You are a blessing to the industry, please allow us to represent you," top agents A, B and C would say.

I would nod modestly and allow them to duke it out- I would come out the winner no matter what. Then I could stick my tongue out at all the naysayers (you know who you are you nasty wet blanket people) and feel like I had finally accomplished something in my life without pain or excessive personal (spiritual) growth. All those heretofore snide comments about my chosen career as a housewife would be silenced to be replaced by adulation and applause.

Hey, I spend 90% of my time in my own head (where all things are possible) but even  I can't read that last line with a straight face.

Dude, I just want to see my books in the Library of Congress- is that so crazy? A little immortality, some money that I earned all by myself- these aren't impossible goals. A career that I love and am good at and the chance to brighten someone's day, maybe take them away from their crapsuck life for a little while, these are lofty but worthwhile goals. And all that separate me from my destiny are almost insurmountable odds and, possibly, a lack of talent. Grrrrrr.

So how's your day going?


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