I Have a Confession To Make....

I haven't been writing.

The last time I did any sort of writing was for the interview I did with Liz.

I've been avoiding writing because my self-confidence in my ability to write tanked completely.

Why? Why not?

I have 40 or so rejections from agents on my manuscript in my inbox, I've revised my manuscript til I'm bleary-eyed, yet having stepped away from it for a while, and having submitted it to other authors in a writer's critique group, then re-visiting it, I now know it needs still another major revision. And I've had that stupid nasty little mean voice in my head saying "Who are you to think you can really do this?" It seems that somewhere along the way, I let that voice take over and get to me.

Writing is hard. It's isolating. It requires focus and the ability to block out life's intrusions. There's no guarantee when you start something, that you will actually get to an end that makes sense and that works. And in the end, whenever you are done what you've been writing, there's no guarantee that anyone else will give a hoot about, or like what you've written. If you're writing just for yourself it doesn't matter so much. If you're trying to find an audience, then the next step is so sell yourself.

And that's even harder than the actual writing.

Imagine going door-to-door trying to sell something. After 40 door slams you might be thinking that it would be wise to find yourself another product to sell. And if you've spent months, or years, of love and dedication developing that product, making it the best you can, you start questioning your own sanity.

I've been questioning this journey that I've taken. And after a near breakdown (it's alright, I always survive my near breakdowns even though they are very ugly looking) I was doing the "Hello Universe!!!? What am I supposed to be doing with my life??!! Do I give this up? Is this stupid and useless and a really dumb idea? Do I need to find some other method of connecting with people, of finding purpose??!!!" Because I live my live always trying to find meaning, contributing in some way that is positive, trying to make a difference. That's just me, it's how I roll.

And so today I went to Google employment resources, thinking that on top of my private practice I might find another form of work to make me feel like a valid human being. Only Google refused to let me access anything. My screen just kept a big blank twirling around until I got so frustrated I walked away. Then I called my parents because I haven't called them in a while. I'm a bad kid sometimes. Sorry folks.

Now, I told my parents about this blog when I started it almost a year ago, but they forgot about it. Totally. Something must have happened, I dunno, maybe Dad found me by mistake on a Google search, but anyhow, apparently they recently found my blog, and started reading it. Dad started reading, then told mom to start reading. And tonight, when I was talking to mom, out of nowhere she tells me I have a gift for writing, and that she hopes I'm going to continue doing it. She kept telling me all this stuff about my writing, and how much she liked it. And dad was excited too and he gave me suggestions of things I might try. And then they argued, cause that's what they do, but that's why I love them.

Apparently the universe has spoken to me. I straight out asked it what I was supposed to be doing with my life earlier today while I paused to watch my dog Kita poop. It was one of those, "Oh, you think you have a big crap? Well my life is bigger crap than yours right now girl, and uh, hey Universe, tell me what I should be doing cause I have no clue."

Thanks mom. I love you. Thanks dad. I love you too. Funny how things work out. Thanks for giving me a kick in the right direction just when I needed it. Happy Mother's Day. Happy Father's Day. There. I've just sent you a card on the World Wide Web.

And P.S. Anything I write will always have those interesting universal synchronisities contained within it. Cause that's just how my life works. :)

Query Letters I Haven't Sent

I'm still working away at perfecting the query letter that will actually get an agent to ask for my work. Life would have been easier if I had written a less complex novel, something I need to remember for my next work. In between all my struggling and hair pulling and tantrums, I've entertained myself with writing queries that I don't actually send. If nothing else, they reveal my twisted sense of humor, might give someone a laugh, and show little bits about the book.

*Wanted*
One half-whacked literary agent with a slightly off kilter, crazed but humorous sensibility who is enamoured with the stupidly inane to represent my charmingly doltish, uniquely quirky, off-centered and heretofore leaning to the right social commentary disguised as a fluffy fur ball manuscript. If this description doesn't fit you, don't bother applying for the position to represent me, as we'll obviously be a match made in Hades. Applications only accepted from those agents with a track record of publishing bestsellers. Due to the overwhelming amount of applications I am receiving don't expect a reply until at least since months after Armageddon has past, and if my bad mood continues, possibly never. Then again, if you really bug me, I may just have to send you an email telling you I deleted your application from my inbox-just for the fun of it. Respectfully yours, Lisa

Dear Agent,
I read 'The Confederacy of Dunces' which was actually a really good book. It's really too bad though that the author had to off himself to get it published, and frankly, if this is the trend of the future, I may have to change my mind about wanting to become an author. I kind of like myself. Somedays. When I'm not trying to get people like you to notice me. Oh, and just to let you know, this may be your last chance to look at my ms for free. See, with all the work we authors have been putting in, we've decided that from now on, for any agent or publisher to look at our work, they have to pay a fee- but we've put it on a sliding scale- a former bestselling author's work- $10,000.00 bucks for a looky-loo. Previously published but not bestselling-$1000.00. Starving author- $5.00. Choose wisely. PS. For every dollar you spend, we'll match you with a penny to be sent to the Fictionally Oppressed Authors Fund. Have a nice day. Respectfully yours, Lisa

Dear Agent,
I've written a really funny book about death, personal devastation, and abandonment. If you think that is a hard thing to do, try your hand at writing a query letter that says that this without actually saying it. I could tell you more about it, but what would be the point since you aren't going to read the darn thing anyway? Respectfully yours, Lisa

Wanted:Agent for Representation

I've been querying. And I've recieved letters that are all starting to sound the same. Despite your merits...this is interesting...I think you've got a great thing going...funny, but sorry...

I'm probably not the best agent to represent you at this time.

Uughhhhhhhhh.

I know everyone thinks humor is subjective. I know I'm a first time author. I know you all think I'm a big time risk. But do you remember the March of the Penguins? It was funny, heartwrenching, different, weird, quirky, and whacked. Welcome to my book.

A love story that's weird. A story of revenge that's lighthearted in the revenge part.

A tale of a woman, a dog, and a whole bunch of strange characters that shouldn't fit together, but do, in a strange, magical, wonderful sort of way.

Somewhere out there in the nether regions of agent/publisher land there has to be someone who believes in a tragic-com for us human females. I'm looking for you, that agent that believes in all that is funny and sad, the one who wants to represent me. The person who wants what I have...where are you? The best person to represent me? I'm waiting, and it's getting just a bit chilly...

The Publishing Industry is Tanking?!

Just a short note tonight while I take a break from the b#*ch that is my pitch/query/potential blurb for the back of my book. Articles on the web abound on the fact that the publishing industry is hurting, no one is reading, and sales are slumping . . . except for YA fiction (young adult), where the demand for books is increasing.

Hmmm.

Let's examine this problem.

Ten years ago, there was a dearth of young adult fiction. As someone in my friends from Seattle writer's group mentioned yesterday, it was only a few years ago that the market for teens and adolescents changed. It used to be that if you were a kid, you read books written for a kid. Remember 'Dick and Jane'? I loved those books. Once you reached 12, or 13, though, it was on to the adult books, because aside from Judy Bloom, and the Outsiders, the choice of reading was limited. Some smart cookie in the publishing industry eventually figured out that teens wanted variety, and the dawn of YA was born. Apparently that smart cookie left the industry for a better paying job, and now we're left with the rather more dense publishers and agents, who haven't figured out that variety is the spice of life, and there's only so many Zombie/Vampire/Harry Potter rip-offs a teen can read before they bail out of the culture that is today's publishing industry.

Publishers and agents seem to be afraid of anything new, anything that doesn't fit into their smart little boxes of categorized genre. It's easier to spin off the success of something that's already been done, someone that's already had a success, rather than to take a chance on something, or someone new. And so, authors that have had one best-seller can sell a piece of crap second book, banking on their name, and their publisher's backing, and the public buys it, trusting the publisher and the author. I've done it. It did it as recently as last week, trusting the author, and trusting the publisher. I bought a piece of junk. With no warrantee. Grrrrr. I guess it's fair marketing, but it certainly doesn't inspire any faith in Jane/Joe reader. And it doesn't inspire any faith in me as I push forward, looking for an agent or publisher who is willing to take a risk on someone new, something new.

I'm a reader, and I'm tired of same old, same old. I don't want to read the next Sex and the City Spin-off. I want something different. And that doesn't mean the same sort of characters in the same place with a new set of shoes, that means something about women that's funny, but waaaaaaaaaay different. Maybe that's why I read the English and Irish markets of books as well. I'm sic, sic, sic of New York women wanting diamonds and Gucci. And I'm still waiting for the Canadian Publishers to move their heads out of their arses, as they realize that some of us in Canada aren't great literary aficianados. We want to see some Canadian spunk. Just like there was in the Olympics.

Knowing what I know now, I have no doubt that there are incredible authors out there who've been waiting 5, 10 and even 15 years to be published. It's time the publishing industry hired a few more smart cookies. It's time for them to take a few more smart risks. It'll be that, or all of us who are too impatient to wait, too determined to have our voices heard, will be taking over the self-publishing industry, and when Joe/Jane pubic finally figures out where the really interesting stuff is, they'll be following us, and the world will start reading once again.

Apparently I'm not good at the short blurb, and now you know why I've written a novel.

Waking up this morning, I just want to add that I in no way want to slam any authors who have written YA Vampire or Zombie books, or any other genre, because that isn't fair. The overflooding of anything in any market, tends to lead to a drop in followers. Us humans get bored easily, and unless something is of very high quality, we're more than happy to move along.

Thank you to those who are commenting. It is appreciated. I haven't yet figured out yet how to reply. And if nothing else, if I've stirred up some discussion, I believe that's a good thing. :)