Normal Woman, not so Wonder Woman

Four, count them, FOUR more query letters went out at the end of last week. Good for me.

Only about eighty more to go, I'm sure.

Meanwhile, the query gods have been nice to me over the weekend; no form rejections, or any kind, for that matter. I wonder if that means I will get a handful on Tuesday morning.

It would be nice to have a lit agent by the end of the summer, but I'm told that lit agents tend to take the summer off, so perhaps by the Fall. This might work for me, however, since I will not be able to write much this summer given the fact that my children will be home for most of it.

I wish I could write at night, and was one of those people who required less sleep, but, alas, I am not.

It sucks to be human sometimes.

Shut Up

Mary’s older sister, Gwen, has royally screwed up her life.  Not only is Gwen pregnant at seventeen, but she’s also decided to marry The Creep who knocked her up.

Now Mary is powerless to stop her family from imploding. Her parents are freaking out royally, and to top it off The Creep has a gross fascination with Mary while Gwen enjoys teasing her to tears for sport.

Despite her brother's advice to shut up, Mary can't keep her trap closed and manages to piss off Mom so much it comes to blows.

Mary doesn’t know what to do, and all her attempts to get help are rejected.  When she finally plans her escape, she fails to consider how it could destroy them all.

"The Beast Call"

Seventeen year old Dray is no ordinary human. But possessing a magical capability to talk to animals in a land where magic is feared, is dangerous. When Dray's adventure hungry brother leaves the family farm to join a rebel militia, Dray follows him, but as Dray discovers her natural warrior capabilities, and word of her magical talents are discovered by the rebel General, Dray becomes an intricate part of the revolution, and the evil King Nuro would like nothing more than to see her destroyed.

Guts Forthcoming

I worked on the synopsis for the new book today. This is the story idea that came to me in the shower a few weeks back. For a thought from the shower, it was in really good shape. It still needs flushing out in the middle, but all the bones are there. Guts are forthcoming.

I have not written another query letter to an agency this week. I hope to accomplish this goal Friday (tomorrow). I have no reason for the delay. It just gets boring and there are so many other things to do.

In the meantime, I hope to start work on the new book next week, though I doubt it, since my kids are home from school. California's budget crisis has resulted in my district taking an unpaid school furlow. Thank you, Mr. Terminator, Govenor, sir.

In the meantime, I'd better do something creative soon. I can feel the lack of release building up, and volcanos of this kind can get messy upon explosion. Then again, I've never heard of a clean eruption.

Tasked

My husband, while lending emotional support at the moment in which he was told of my latest rejection letters (which, I venture to say, are hardly rejections seen as how only 1 of these agencies had actually read the book), anyway, he had an interesting comment regarding the depressing subject matter of this book...namely, depression.

He said, "You should write a magazine article about how this is an actual issue for parents now. We know two families personally that are dealing with juvenile depression. We can't be the only people in the U.S. who do. If the agents know it's an issue of today, then maybe they'll be more inclined to read a book on the subject matter."

Did I mention how smart he is?

I'm gathering statistics first. I believe a study was just published in the papers a few weeks ago. This is great, I love a new project.

Hard Rock

I was greeted this morning by the welcoming sound of jack hammers. I hate jack hammers. I dislike quite a few things, but there are only a few things that I hate. The sound of jack hammers is one of those things. Right up there with getting a filling put in, people who sue for a living, people who are cruel to children, and war.

Jack hammers.

Grrrrr.

I'm going to attempt to drown it out with loud music.

Hard rock anyone?

(Hard rock, jack hammers...get it?!)

Drippy Accomplishments

I spent all day editing the rest of the book. No laundry got done. The clean dishes are still in the dishwasher and the dirty ones are still in the sink. But, my goal of getting all the way through before having to pick up my kids from school was accomplished.

I also had time to send out another query letter. I read on QueryTracker.net one author sent out 115 before finding an agent, so I guess I shouldn't complain about my 21.

If only I could breathe through my nose (allergies! argh!!) I'd feel happy. Instead all I can feel is my extremely drippy nose and my itchy eyes.

Good for me anyway.

Onward we go.

Detox

I edited the first two chapters last night after putting the girls to bed. This is something I rarely do because my brain tends to turn into a pumpkin the moment the sun goes down, but I've been consuming massive amounts of caffeine and nicotine because of my folks' visit, and I was so hopped up I couldn't relax.

That frame of mind works well for editing. I was ruthless. The ms is so tight now you could bounce a quarter off it.

I thought maybe I could do more today, and plan to, but it depends on whether or not I can get my ass out of these sweats and into actual clothing.

I think I might take an hour long shower.

Bummer

During my folks' visit I received two rejection letters, including the agency that had the whole manuscript.

Bummer.

The main note the agency gave was that the ms was depressing. I imagine a book about juvenile depression would be depressing. That's not an unexpected note. The other two notes were the agent's inability to connect with the main character (Hmm), or the writing (more Hmm). I am aware that I am a good writer, so I am not too concerned about someone not being able to connect with it. For every one person who has not connected, I have another who has. The question will be to find the right agent who actually likes my writing. For this, the search continues.

As for not being able to connect with the main character, my only thought is that perhaps a person who has not experienced depression themselves may have a hard time understanding this heroine's pain, and that note actually worries me. I wonder how I would be able to make a depressed character appeal to those not familiar with the sensation of suicidal thoughts. According to this one agent, I missed the boat.

This will require further thought. In the meantime, I must get back into the habit of writing, now that my office is no longer doubling as the guest room.

Still, my thoughts continue to return to one word.

Bummer.

"The Amulet Chronicles, Book One: The Journey Home"

Fourteen year old Joey Thompson doesn't realize the significance of the necklace she finds in her Aunt Camille's apothecary until it starts spinning. In a rush of white light, she is transported into the past! Forced into the job of a Tempes Soudeour, or Time Soldier, Joey must return the existing time continuum to its rightful order, or be stuck in the past forever!

Creative Ooze

I have family coming into town, which doesn't happen often, so I've been concentrating my efforts on organizing meals, cleaning towels and sheets, and performing last minute fine touches to my newly remodeled (yet, unfinished) house. I have not been writing, nor have I been even thinking about writing and after a week of this creative-inactivity I have noticed a few things.

a) I'm bored.

b) Facebook games do not fulfill this boredom.

c) I am a better mother to my kids. I am focused fully on their strengths and weaknesses, I listen more attentively, think before I react (most of the time) and am less distracted by the cast of characters floating around my head.

d) Cleaning does not fulfill boredom, nor is it any fun. I must admit, however, I like how everything is put away during school hours. It's refreshing. Mind you, once the kids get home, that's all shot to hell by shoes in the middle of the floor, sweatshirts thrown about the family room, backpacks blocking the halls, and the constant, never ending repetition of, "Stop it!" "Stop it!" "Stop it!" (coming from my 8 y/o and directed at my 6 y/o). Only, it sounds more like, "Stauuuuup eeeeeeeeett!" Grrrr.

e) I will need to write eventually or I will turn to booze and nicotine. Don't get me wrong. I love my life, I love my kids, I love my husband, I am an extremely lucky woman and I know this to the core of my soul. But if I don't exert some of this creative energy before too long it feels like the words are going to ooze out from my pours like a puss. Gross. It's much better to direct it at the computer screen during school hours and try my best to have some mental energy left when the kids get home, because, after all, that's what it's supposed to be all about.

Right?

Right??

Hmm...

Glue Pain

I have a gluing injury. How many times have you heard that before? Like, never?
My 6 year old had to create a diorama (yes, they still make those) for her Mammal Mania project and she and I spent 2 hours yesterday cutting, gluing and designing a habitat for her Sea Otter.

My forefinger on my right hand has a swollen knuckle now, and my right wrist is aching! It's all the squeezing of the glue bottle that got me. Damned arthritis. I'm too young for this crap. It makes typing painful, violin playing impossible (not that I was planning on playing anyways, but that's not the point! --She says as she stamps her foot like a 2 year old) which makes the letter I sent out today to another agency all the more special.

Also, I re-read the scene I wrote for the new book and I'm not sure I'm going to keep it. Still stewing.

Such is life.

Meh.

Didn't write.

Didn't read.

Cleaned house.

Went grocery shopping.

Helped my kids with their homework.

Cooked dinner.

Put kids to bed.

Crocheted while watching mindless TV.

Did not put out or receive any letters today.

Meh.