I’ve dicked around for about three weeks now, tweaking my query for EFFIN’ ALBERT, sporadically submitting CHERRY queries. On occasion during that time, I’ve pulled up my WIP and read parts, changed a word, removed a comma. Absolute Write put out a call for short story submissions (Erotica, no less), and I actually wrote 2K words before fizzling out. The deadline was today.
That’s it. At least, I think that’s it: the thing that’s been sticking with me, sticking in my proverbial craw: that sinking feeling that this has all been for naught; that my chances have passed me by or worse, that I’ve been deluding myself into actually believing I had a shot at getting published.
Yeah, me and a thousand other aspiring writers. Let me amend that: aspiring-to-be-published writers. I’m already a writer, writing seriously for over three years now; five novels complete, a new one in the works. I write pretty well from what folks tell me.
But as my good buddy Mrs Fringe has alluded to on her own blog, good writing–even great writing–doesn’t guarantee diddly. I know it doesn’t. I’ve always said–swore, or so I believed–that what I really wanted was to write something, if not of beauty, then, at least, of value. But the truth is, I want more than that. I want to be published, that’s what I want, and I don’t know if that’s going to happen for me.
Yeah. Me and a thousand other writers, I know. KKellie ain’t speshul, wishing on that particular star.
Anyway, back to what’s been going on. The last couple of days, I’ve been mulling things over. A lot. And I think I may have figured it out. See, today was my scheduled appointment with my gynecologist. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since having that D & C and finding I had uterine cancer. Knowing I was going there today had been weighing heavily on my mind, all that anxiety and fear and vulnerability that’s been lurking, just beneath the surface, coming to the fore. I dreaded that visit, tell you what.
The other thing bugging me of late had to do with what we writers call The Nudge. It was past due. You give agents/editors x months to review your full, it takes time. But the three-month mark seems to be standard and my (second, or was it third) three-month mark passed a good three weeks ago, for two folks who have the full for CHERRY. A certain agent is swamped, I’ve been following her twitter feed. Three months ago, she told me to hang tight. Same deal with a certain indie pub editor. He’ been travelling the country, doing really great things for people. He told me months ago to hang tight, my full was on top of the pile.
Like I said, it was nudge-time for sure, but I’d put it off because I didn’t want to hear them say no to me.
Because that would be it.
Which is stupid, because there are other agents, other editors. And doing nothing was equally stupid; it would be what it was going to be. Nothing magical about it.
I bit the bullet and went to see my gynecologist today. Then, I came home and emailed those two people. I heard back from the agent within the hour. She’s still swamped, will be holding off on new queries for a while so she can start to tackle the backlog. She apologized and asked me to hang tight. As of right now, I’m waiting on that editor. Not sure what he’s going to say but I feel a little better–better, as in, a tad more hopeful. A smidgeon. My gynecologist told me everything looked great, we caught it early, my prognosis was very good.
Maybe there’s still time for me.