You may temporarily lose track of the joy, the passion, the reason … but don’t lose track of your persistence.
Confession time: That’s not Gemini’s horoscope for today. I’m a Gemini on the cusp with Cancer, but in matters of proximity–as well as content–I deem it close enough.
There are always reasons not to do something. Writing is no different. I could offer a myriad of reasons why I’ve floundered with my writing these last few weeks, but the truth is, they’d all be excuses. And while the beginning of this month has been tumultuous, to say the least (my agent and I parted company on February 1), and this last week has been fraught with anxiety (my better half went under the knife two days ago), the truth is, I am uninspired.
This is not to say I’ve abandoned my dream of being published, because I haven’t. In fact, earlier this month I made a (tentative) decision to set CHERRY aside for a little while, let it percolate and instead, work on my EFFIN’ ALBERT query. Bottom line: I want an agent. If ALBERT is the way to find one, so be it.
So, I’ve been working on my ALBERT query; albeit, in fits and starts. The problem is. . .
Actually, I don’t know what the problem is. EFFIN’ ALBERT is solid and ready to go. The query, not so much. A little backstory on that: after working the death out of the query over at Absolute Write, I’d settled on one version, which I’d then sent out to 30 or so agents. The result was exactly one bite: a exclusive full request, which resulted in a disappointingly brief rejection. Since then, I’ve spent countless hours trying to revamp the query, to no avail.
This month, after making my decision to focus on ALBERT, I doubled my efforts, but I can’t seem to shake the suspicion that the query, as is, is intrinsically wrong; that a complete overhaul is not only prudent, but necessary. And yet, try as I might, my efforts aren’t producing anything substantively different. I’m stuck. What I need is inspiration, some spark of creativity to change things up, but I can’t seem to come up with anything even remotely amazing, reason being. . .
Reason being, I don’t know. All I know is that here I stand–mid-February 2016 now–and I am mired in the muck of . . . not self-doubt, although self-doubt is undoubtedly part of it. Honestly, what I’m experiencing feels suspiciously like a lack of passion for writing, for finding an agent, for trying to get my work published, all of which is disconcerting, to say the least.
Which brings me back to today’s horoscope. Whether or not it officially belongs to me, today I’m declaring it mine because I need to do that: I need to hear it and believe it and heed its message, which is that our way might not be clear right now, but this is a temporary situation only. That little flower is a testament to the power of persistence.
Miracles happen all the time.