The Fear

This really has nothing to do with the querying process or any of that. In fact, I just got another full request a few days ago, so I’m feeling pretty good on that front. This fear has more to do with my abilities as a writer, and that’s not something I doubt often.

Well, I guess I should rephrase that. I know that I’m a good writer when I have something to write about, and there’s the rub–I feel like I don’t have anything to write about right now. My last book just kind of sprang to life after many years of trying and failing to write stories that I thought had direction but ended up dying three or four pages in (if that). Under the Surface took hold of me and, after about 15 pages in, demanded to be told. It was that magical moment all writers talk about, when the story takes on a life of its own and you just have to let it happen. I loved it, but part of me is afraid it’ll never happen again.

While I’m waiting for replies from queries and submissions, I want to start a new project, partially because I want to distract myself from the waiting and partially because, if I do land an agent, I want him or her to know that I’m serious about having a career. I’ve started two novels, both of which I have vague ideas for, but they don’t seem substantial enough to warrant a full book. Great concepts, but not enough potential for follow through. I’m panicking.

How do you deal with that? I’ve been trying to work on the one novel in particular, and I love the main character’s voice and the situation he’s in, but I have no idea how to bridge the gap between where he is now and where I want him to be. It’s really, really hard, and it’s something I struggled with at the beginning of Under the Surface. I’m having trouble getting over the hump, and that’s scary.

I guess the main thing is to keep writing because you can’t fix or edit something that doesn’t exist. If I at least have something on paper, that means I’m working and trying to break through the obstacles, and if what I write doesn’t work, I can re-write after I have a better idea of what the story is. Man, I wish I were one of those writers who could effectively outline. I feel like my life would be easier if I were.

But what’s life without a challenge, right? Right?! Sigh.

Editing and Editing

Yesterday I did an editing marathon. The editor I’m working with sent back a marked up draft of my novel, and I spent at least eight hours–six of them consecutive–going over the comments and trying to make things flow better. You know what I realized? Editing your own work is HARD. You see things a certain way when you write them, so you automatically assume that others will see your vision the same way you do. A lot of the time, they don’t.

BUT… that’s why editors exist and why it’s so important for writers to trust them. It’s hard because your writing is so often a reflection of you, your views, and your passion. It’s ridiculously difficult to extract yourself from that, but when you do, it makes the process so much easier. I’ve been trying to do that, and for the most part I’m hoping I’ve been successful. We’ll see when I get the next round of edits. Either way, it just feels good to be transforming this story into something better and better. It deserves that.

I might be a little loopy from staring at a computer screen for so long. I should probably go do real people things like… oh, God, what do real people do?

The Waiting Game

I’ve never been a patient person. That’s a lie. I’m patient with situations that drive most people crazy, like long lines at the supermarket and getting brought the wrong order at a restaurant. I can roll with the punches. I understand that people are human, and humans make mistakes. That’s all within the realm of my being able to be patient.

However, when it comes to things that only affect me, I’m one impatient little lady. I couldn’t sleep last night. I have a bad thyroid, so I could probably sleep through any number of apocalyptic events, yet have me send out a few queries and I’m wired for a week. Ridiculous. I’ve never been so excited and nervous in my life. I check my email compulsively. It’s disgusting.

I really hope I get better at waiting, because if I don’t, I’ll drive myself into psychosis within the month. (Appropriate for Halloween, maybe, but not much else.) The only saving grace I have is that Gilmore Girls is now on Netflix, so when I feel particularly antsy, I go and watch that. God bless you, Lorelai Gilmore.

I love this and hate it so fiercely. It’s like Christmas, but instead of Santa bringing presents, he gives you a 1% chance of making your dreams come true (and a 99% chance of crushing your spirit). I am exhilarated. I am scared. I am in need of a stiff drink.

The Full Request

Wow. As of this morning I had sent two queries out, both of which were sent on Friday night. This afternoon, I got an email from an agent at Dystel & Goderich requesting my full manuscript.

I don’t think I’ve stopped doing cartwheels since. This is a very exciting, nerve-racking, weird time in my life. It’s all new and possibly wonderful, but it can also come crashing down in an instant. Very delicate.

For now I guess I will keep working on queries and looking forward to working with some editors. It’s hard to stand still now that I feel like I have forward motion. I’m patient with people, not situations. I’m reminded of that now. Oops.

Three cheers to little victories!

(This post is about as disjointed as my thoughts are right now. You’re welcome.)

Behold!

It’s interesting how much things can change in a short span of time. Instead of floundering around with dwindling confidence, writing query after query, I started looking into freelance editors. I happened upon The Independent Editors Group, browsed the editors’ bios, and fell in love with one editor, Paul Dinas, who has worked extensively on young adult fiction. So, at 12:30 AM, I sent him a query.

By 7:30 this morning, he had already responded, with a great deal of enthusiasm, to the synopsis I had sent. He’s backed up on projects right now so he won’t be able to read the manuscript until November, with sights at working on the project in December, but that gives me just enough time to smooth out some more kinks before sending him something I feel reflects my best work.

In the interim, I’ve decided to look into Bri Bruce, who is great on her own but in combination with Paul Dinas, I think I’d have a dynamite team of eyes looking this thing over and crafting it into something delicious. Hopefully Ms. Bruce and I can gut this thing and make it sing before I send it off to Mr. Dinas. I am much more excited and optimistic now that I have some professional help… I just hope I don’t go broke.

But, hey, that’s what being a writer is all about, right?

The Brave New World

I am a writer. No matter how many times I tell myself that, it doesn’t sink in, probably because I have nothing to show for it. I know it’s who I am–let’s be honest, I knew when I was about six–but it’s not an easy thing to commit to.

This comes hot on the heels of having finished my first novel, a story steeped in grief, empowerment, and a really fucked up urban legend. It’s something I’m proud of, and it’s the first time I’ve ever believed in the idea that I could not just be a writer but be A Writer. And while that’s all great and cheerful, I am a 22-year-old lost in a landscape of oh-God-this-is-scary bureaucracy.

There are certain things I know I have to do in order to continue on the path to not being homeless while writing, but what I lack is guidance. I know I need people to absolutely tear my manuscript apart, but friends and family only serve to gush and do some great back-patting, not to give solid criticism. (I mean, getting patted on the back is awesome and everything, but a literary agent isn’t as… gentle.) Last night I started looking into agencies. Holy fucking terrifying. I sent out two queries before the self-doubt set in, which I know is normal, but I feel less equipped to understand this industry than the average person because I really, truly have no idea what I’m doing.

I just want to write, y’know? But beyond that, I want people to feel my writing and have the opportunity to carry it with them. My market is young adult, and I know that by having a market I’m already a step ahead, but I am also completely unpublished and young. Young might not be a bad thing: agents and publishers see potential for a long career, which means $$. However, young also means not being taken seriously, and I’ve had enough of that in my life, thank you.

So the purpose of this blog becomes documenting my way through this brand new world in the hopes that, should I ever get some footing, it might help some other young writer holding their manuscript and saying, “Now what?” Maybe with some luck I’ll be able to answer that, but for now, I wait.