Conspiracy of Events. Confederacy of Dunces.

For a number of reasons, I’ve been avoiding this blog.  It’s supposed to be a blog about writing, about publishing, about craft.  And I haven’t been doing much of any of that, so I haven’t had much to say.

I’ve had three (very nice) rejections for the book I’m shopping around. I’ve got several more queries that have apparently just fallen into the ether.  Is it wrong to find this irritating? I realize it’s a buyer’s market, and agents can do whatever they bloody well please, but I have to think there’s a special corner of hell for the rudeness and egotism of someone who gets out into social media and exhorts writers to do six hours of research into following the agent’s likes and dislikes on Twitter, reading the stuff they’ve repped before, and then crafting a lovingly customized query letter, and then doesn’t reciprocate by at least sending a form rejection upon receiving said letter.  I mean, really.  I spend six hours doing my homework and you can’t be bothered to set up your email to send a form letter when you press a button you’d have to press anyway to delete my query? Grumble.

In other news, my hard drive crashed.  Because I am lazy and hadn’t trained myself to live out of google docs yet, I lost the latest revisions to both my manuscripts, all my notes and outlines, my query letter, my tracking guide of which agents I’d written and which ones had turned me down.  I also lost a bunch of other stuff, but that’s not germane to this discussion, other than to say: flash drives! Get ’em while your hard drive’s still hot!

What I don’t know is if this is a sign.  I saw the movie Evan Almighty this week — which I thought was pretty mediocre, thanks for asking. But one of the points it made that I found intriguing was how God gives you what you ask for: “If you pray for patience, God doesn’t give you patience, he gives you the opportunity to be patient.”

Well, I ain’t been praying  much lately, so I’m not sure what I asked for here.  Was it the chance to show resilience, re-revise my scripts and keep shopping them? Or was the hard drive crash coupled with the 3 rejections in a week (after dead silence for a month and a half) the chance for deliverance, the message that I can just drop all this shit without guilt and move away and spend my time on more gratifying endeavors? I honestly don’t know. I don’t know what I want to do.

I also don’t know what I’m going to do at this writer’s conference now.  I mean, I still have the slot to talk to the agent, and I suppose I’ll still go — but what will I say? “Hey, yeah, I had a book all set to go, but now I need to make sure it’s all still there, so I’m not sure it’s worth facing your rejection here in person right now… so! Ya like puppies? How about bourbon?”

Blah. Whatever. I’m going to talk to some food about all this.

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About arwenbicknell

Editor by day, author by night.
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