Scratch My Itch


I’m irritated.

Can’t explain why, exactly. Can’t articulate what actually precipitated this feeling of . . . hell, I don’t know. I ain’t happy, I know that. Not peaceful. Itching for a fight, maybe, but there’s nobody here but me. Which means I am stuck with my own stinking pile of angst, just me and IT, which pisses me off. And offers me no relief.

I was up late last night, drank way too much Diet Coke before I went to bed. I knew better, stupid me. And I didn’t sleep well. My back hurt and my dreams, my god, I don’t know sometimes. Last night I dreamed of sharks and lanterns with wax tubes and all kinds of crazy stuff. I was on a raft, adrift. . . I woke up tired and vaguely upset. And late, like 8 a.m., feeling lethargic and discombobulated.

I have to go to Walmarto, get some stuff. Cat litter, eggs. It was rainy and mr kk didn’t want me to take the NICE CAR, the one in the garage. Wait, he said, I’m taking the van to your mother’s to fix her light, just wait ’til I get back. That was at eleven a.m. It’s now after one and I’m still waiting.

I should use this time wisely, send out queries for CHERRY and EFFIN’ ALBERT but I feel too . . . uncentered, maybe. Unfocused. I can’t afford to send out queries with mistakes, hell, my agent pool for CHERRY is dwindling as we speak. And ALBERT. . . crap. I don’t think my query is as good as it needs to be, as it has to be. I keep waffling with the thing, sending one with voice, the next with minimal voice, changing the wording, the ending. I don’t know, I started reading part of ALBERT today again and it’s good, dammit. Why doesn’t somebody just–

And when I think of CHERRY, god. I know that novel is good. I know it. So why–

Excuse this post. Ignore it, I won’t mind because I know what it is: a rant, written by me, and for my benefit. Penned in hopes of what, that I might somehow ease this feeling of irritation, scratch that itch?

I can’t even reach the damn thing.


8 thoughts on “Scratch My Itch

  1. No, I’m so glad you posted this. THIS, your 5th and 6th para’s are an accurate reflection of my own head space right now. I’m paralyzed and afraid to send more stonking queries b/c the query isn’t selling the work appropriately. I’m running out of agents myself (39 down from a list of 78). I have a hard premise to get agents on board with. So, I have quit querying because I don’t have the right sales tool for it right now. And that stinks. I feel you.

    I wish someone would read my book, then help me write a query. I must be putting emphasis on the wrong things. I’ve tried the cookie-cutter version, and in the end, it didn’t do my story justice. It sounded trite, used-up, whack. I’m brainstorming though. There’s got to be a way to bring my query to life. I’m putting some space between myself and the query process right now because I’m too close. I’m using old words that trap me. When I have something I think is amazing, I’ll give AW another whirl. Maybe.

    You stay the course, though. Albert has GOT to find a home. Of that I’m certain.


    • Thank you, Courtney.

      By the way, your post surprised me. I had no idea my rant would be meaningful to anybody.

      I read what you wrote and felt the wind just slip right out of my indignant sails. I feel for you, I really do. I know exactly what you are going through with your query. It can be a frustrating experience, frustrating to the point of tears sometimes. I want to say to an agent, Please, please, just read my book. I want that agent to say, SEND IT. I WILL READ IT THROUGH.

      But that ain’t happening. So we have those choices, you know, say Fuck it, or say Okay, dammit, I will write a damn good query for my book if it’s the last thing I do, and then I’ll cross my fingers and wait, and hope–


      Courtney, my disposition is uncommonly dark today and I apologize for that. I feel your pain and wish I could relieve you of some of it. All of it. Wish I could make this process easier and guarantee you an amazingly wonderful outcome. The best I can do is send you a hug.

      I’m doing that now.

      xoxo kk


  2. The waiting, the querying, the being on the receiving end of rejections for stories you believe in, all hard, angst producing stuff. (((((hugs)))))

    Now stop torturing yourself about the damned queries. You KNOW you write excellent queries, stop fucking with them. I think there is skill, maybe even an art, to writing a good query–you’ve got it–but there isn’t a magic phrase, sentence, 250 words of agentgasm where they’re all going to say I must read this RIGHT NOW. I wish there was, for all of us. And if there was, I would share. ❤


    • If wishes were horses. . .

      I know.

      I know, Mrs Fringe. xoxo and thank you. You know the best part? I reached out today and didn’t even know it.

      Now I do.


    • You play your video games, Jen Donohue. I worked outside until I got nice and tired, now I’m out here with a brew and my laptop under the apple tree, reading ALBERT. It’s really good so far, I wonder what’s going to happen next??


      Have a happy day, Jen!

      xo kk


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