this too shall pass.

please mr. fantasy, send me an email. . . 

I read your first five chapters of CHERRY, kk. How long have you been writing again? Just a couple of years? Wow. Well, I'm really impressed and I definitely want to read the rest of your novel. Send it as an attachment, attention me. Personally, yep. . .

Like a backhand across the face. What the hell happened?

He read my query and liked it enough to ask for the first few chapters. He read the chapters and took a pass. Nope. No thanks. Good luck and all that. An email, just a couple of lines, succinct, professional.

It knocked me on my ass.

Intellectually, as soon as I read that email I was working it, putting a positive spin on it. Patting myself on the back for making it that far. Telling myself he's only one agent. It wasn't meant to be, that's all. I know CHERRY's good, I just need to find the right fit and I will, it's just a matter of time.

But emotionally, I was wrecked yesterday. Funny how fast one can slip into that sickening, self-indulgent mode: it's crap/I suck. . .

Today I'm sorting through my feelings. Tossing the most ridiculous maudlin shit which serves absolutely no purpose. Filing assorted bits and pieces of the experience away--just in case, for future reference. Stepping back, putting the thing in perspective.

I considered marshalling the troops today, meeting my disappointment head on, searching and querying. But I decided to give myself time. As David Brandt says, I need to process this, so I shall allow myself a couple of days to digest that email, let it work it's way through my system. I shall absorb what's of value and shite the rest.

Yep. This too shall pass.

Virtual Perpetuality

"Hello?" 

She asks that question to the Universe, having just checked her emails for any sign of life. She had such high hopes, reflected in the day's breaking dawn: crisp and clear, fresh and full of promise. . . 

Actually, it's nippy and kind of cloudy out, and I woke sluggish and out of sorts after sleeping nearly twelve hours to which I say Holy crap, where's my coffee?  I guess I needed it, but that's not the point. The point is, my novel CHERRY is in a state of virtual perpetuality right now. I'm waiting to hear back from a few publishers and a certain agent.

A little backround.

I wrote CHERRY, my fourth novel, then sufficiently shredded the thing based on some amazing beta reader comments and suggestions. I put it back together again, moving chapters, adding new stuff, then I refined it, tweaked it and tweaked it and tweaked it some more, and finally declared it *done*.

Fool that I was.

I shall not bore you, my ersatz readers, with my harrowing tale of woe relative to drafting my query letter for CHERRY. Should anyone be interested, you may peruse my personal journey through Query Letter Hell over on AbsoluteWrite *here* . It started last April (I'm talking 2012) and ended last month. Long story short, I worked that puppy to death, realized CHERRY wasn't done yet, reworked the novel then sent it to betas again, then started from scratch with the query and finally declared both ready to roll.

Novel and query complete, I tentatively sent forth a few queries--six, to be exact. Five to independent publishers and one to an agent. I shall speak more of my reasoning behind going the indie route in another blog thingie. Suffice to say, I thought it was prudent to do so, considering a lot of things, not the least of which is CHERRY's subject matter. As for that lone agent, I found him after a bout of extensive research. I'm not suggesting he was difficult to find--actually, he's well-known, well-respected, owns the agency. The process was extensive only because I made it so, because I tend to do that, because I'm--

Fodder for another blog thingie, perhaps.

Back to it: of the five indies, two have responded thus far; both, within days of sending my query, and both requesting fulls. Endless possibilities danced inside my little pea brain and made me giddy. THEN, barely two days after sending my query to the agent, I received an email from him requesting the first few chapters. Oh joy! Rapture! I sent him the first five chapters then commenced to doing the happy dance, which lasted a week, maybe.

Then harsh reality set in, as it tends to do. Truth is, I may be waiting for a while. I may never hear back. (I shall not mention the harshest reality: that, even if I do hear back, chances of anything actually *happening* are slim. I won't mention that because I'll just get depressed and it ain't even 7 a.m. yet and I ain't even finished my first cuppa joe yet.)

Bottom line is this: Today is June 9, 2013, and I am waiting to hear from two indie publishers and one fine literary agent. I know, I know, it's only been a month--four weeks, that's peanuts in the novel submission waiting game, patience is a virtue my God stop your whining just give it a rest but the waiting is