This was gonna be the blog where I write all about the pitch I made on PitchMAS@blogspot.com, pitching CHERRY, knowing my pitch was so far out in left field it wasn’t even funny, knowing I didn’t have a chance and hoping anyway, because I’m an idiot. . .
Knowing I wrote a really good novel and dammit, somebody out there’s gonna realize that and snap that bad boy up WAIT, what was I just talking about? Oh, yeah, the pitch blog contest thingie.
This blog was gonna be about how I was gone, off the grid, no internet access, trying to have fun camping and meanwhile, every five effin’ minutes my mind’s drifting back that stupid contest, hoping and not hoping, wondering if maybe, maybe. . .
Then I’d write how I got home and put away all my crap, started a load of laundry and fed the cat and put off checking, put it off as long as I could until I couldn’t wait one more second, I turned the ol’ computer on and headed straight to the blog to see if maybe, maybe. . .
And how I started with pitch #56 and started working my way down the list. And how I got to pitch #1 and realized mine wasn’t in-between the two. And how disappointed I was, more than I wanted to admit, more than I was going to admit to anybody. . .
But I was going to buck up, dammit, because I know CHERRY’s good. And tomorrow I’d have another go at it, in that twitchMAS tweet pitch thingie which I told myself I was doing because, dammit. . .
Yeah. I was gonna write that blog. A ‘poor-me-put-on-your-big-girl-panties’ blog. Fuck it, ain’t doing it. And I can say that because damn, I opened my email and saw a note from an agent.
I’d queried her a couple of weeks ago, sent my shiny new synopsis courtesy of AW, and the first ten pages. She liked it. Damn. Damn. She wants to see the first 50 which I sent straightaway and dammit, now I’m all hopeful again. This roller coaster just keeps on rolling. Or is it a crazy train? I don’t know, but this I do know: whatever it is, I ain’t the only one riding that puppy. Right now, I’m watching some crazy twitter #tenqueries thingie with Eric Ruben, Esq., and trying to help my friend Putputt with her query to UK agents–not much help today, I am afraid. Conversing with my friend mrs fringe who is licking her wounds, as I did mine. Thinking about tomorrow’s tweets and that agent and Mr. Eric Ruben, Esq., who is ripping queries like. . . I won’t say it, being as I’m all delicate and everything.
Crazy. But delicate. Insane but I have my reputation to consider. Discombobulated, frustrated, and elated but dammit. . .
What the hell.