Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Whining and Complaining

Wait, what?!? Why are you still reading? Well, don't say I didn't warn you.
It was right there in the title.
Quick, turn back!
Shut down this screen.

Phew.

NOW.

I. WANT. MY.  FUCKING. BOOK. PUBLISHED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :(

There. I feel slightly better.

Okay, lie. No, I don't. Not yet. Not really.


I mean, come on!? First The Jetty and now Swim Back to Me?

Both good enough to get me agented by major New York literary agencies, but neither good enough to sell?!?

Come on! >:(

Okay, okay. I am trying for acceptance, but I just can't get myself to believe it and let go of that last glimmer of hope.

And let me tell you just how cruel that last glimmer can be.

For days, I've doing that damned email and caller ID checking thing that I hate so much...

But, it seems I'm going to have to find my way toward that acceptance eventually. Or, rather, sooner than later.

Because, for all the great editorial feedback Swim Back to Me has gotten from at least five major houses ("I'm half way through and couldn't put it down, is the ms still available?" from one... "my assistant and I both loved it... found the characters believeable, found ourselves wanting to know what happened, blah, blah, blah" from another) they all seem to have followed with "buts..." 

BIG. FAT. BUTS!

In an email yesterday, I told my agent to go ahead and just send the close out notice.

In an email today, she tells me,"deep breath." But what does she know of the thousands of hours and emotional energy I have put into that manuscript? Okay, well, seriously, she sort of knows. I think she's as surprised as I am that it hasn't sold. I know she believes in it and me. And, certainly, she's put her time in it too. Pushing me on revisions, rereading after each version, lunching with editors to assess their initial interest (this isn't as fun as it sounds), preparing the cover sheets and packages for submission. Follow up phone calls...

Still, I'm pissed. And, more than that, heartbroken. I'm trying to just suck it up and move on, but apparently, I'm not as good as sucking it up once again as I should be. I may need to whine and complain some more first.

Are you STILL reading? Well thanks, then. And, please, you can kick my ass, but no platitudes.  I fucking hate platitudes.

Hey, don't say I didn't warn you.

8 comments:

  1. Thank you for expressing in bright, bold type the feelings experienced by so many of us writers. By this time next year, I will have 10 published books. Does that mean I can merely shrug and smile when agents and/or publishers reject my latest manuscript?

    I think not.

    No platitudes for you, Gae! Go ahead. Kick something.

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  2. Thanks, Scotti.

    I'll kick it, let it ricochet off that wall and bounce back here, where I'll leave it for you to kick too. <3

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  3. *sending hugs*

    I haven't gotten as far as you have, but I have a solid bet I am placing right now. Once your current book is OUT and starts selling by gangbusters, THEN they will want it. I think publishers are just super conservative right now, but take my word for it... they will be begging for all your stuff one day very soon.

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  4. If only, Hart. But I'm not sure it translates between genres unless your Stephen King or John Grisham.

    But maybe.

    And maybe when they beg, I'll say no. :D

    (ok, yeah, probably not.) :)

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  5. I love a good fuck.

    And a well-placed one.

    Well, er.

    Never mind.

    (Thanks Barb. No need to follow with the platitudes. Hopefully, I'll be all done whining by then. Now, cake on the other hand...)

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  6. No platitudes. Nothing helpful to say really. What's to say? It sucks. It's bullshit. Complain, kick things, drink too much, let it out and then do the only thing we can do in these circumstances, write another book

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  7. TOTAL bullshit! Er, right Jeff???

    Thanks. I love you guys. :D

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  8. and, um, those of you reading along, this is NOT my YA (young adult) blog. Please don't send your kids here. You knew that, right?!?!?

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