The ABCs

For some reason, it’s always amazed me that the 26 letters in the English alphabet have been used to write some of the most amazing stories.  The same letters have been used to write Jane Austen’s Emma, Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn, and J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter Series, to name a few.  These simple letters can make us laugh, make us cry, and can take us on adventures we never could have imagined.  It fascinates me.

What makes it even more incredible, there are still so many more stories to tell.  There is no shortage to the memorable characters, touching moments, and exciting tales.  Just some simple letters, those ABCs we learned as a child, and there is an infinite world of possibilities.

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Calmly (or Slightly Anxiously) Waiting

Do you ever stare at a blank Word document and watch the cursor blink like one of those obnoxious metronomes?  Tick.  Tock.  Tick.  Tock.   I was sitting in front of my computer today, staring at the cursor, trying to do anything except think about my writing future.  At this very moment, an agent might be reading excerpts from my novel and with every word, determining my fate as a published author.

It’s not that I don’t have enough to do in the day except sit here and think.  I am a fairly busy person – with a job and a quickly approaching wedding.  But somehow I find myself sitting in front of my computer wanting to do nothing else except write.

My thoughts flutter about possible sequel ideas – imagining where my characters might go and what could happen to them in their future.  But for some reason, I can’t let myself go there.  I won’t let myself go there.  Until I know that someone really believes in my story, it’s hard to start something new, hard to continue the story.

The weird thing is, from the very beginning, my novel wasn’t about anyone else.  It was about me.  It was about me exploring some other strangely familiar place, filled with characters that I know so deeply, like some old, cherished friends.

So why now?  Why am I suddenly so hell-bent on what others think about my world and my characters?  I know I want other people to love them like I do.  But why should that stop me from doing more, from creating more?

Maybe it’s time for me to stop analyzing and get back to where I started.  Brave the tick tock of the blinking cursor and do what I love – write.

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Number Four – They Want More!!!

All right, so it’s not yet a full and complete YES!  But it’s the first step to one.  I can’t believe it.  I’m still slightly shaking.  An agent requested the first few chapters of my story.  I am thrilled.  And I’m finally sitting back down after jumping up and down (literally).

Even though this is what I’ve been waiting for, I still can’t believe it.  But it’s true.  Someone wants to read my writing.  Someone wants to hear my story.  Well, not exactly my story, it’s my character’s story; this isn’t a memoir or anything.

Now that the chapters are off, I’m back to waiting.  But this time it’ll be a little more exciting.  This time I know they’re at least a little interested.

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Another Two Makes Three

I received two more polite rejections today.  These were the generic type, both beginning with “Dear Author” and ending with some friendly good luck in the future comment.

While I have no idea why either agency rejected me, somehow it hurts less today.  Somehow I feel less brushed aside, but more like this is just part of the rollercoaster of being an author (published or otherwise).

This was the ride I chose, the ride I always wanted – so I’m going to hold on tight, yell a little if I need to, and jump for joy when someone finally says Yes.   Like one of my rejection letters said, “It just takes one ‘Yes!’”

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And so it begins…

I am a first time author of a yet to be published book.   I’ve poured everything I have into this book and now I am actively seeking an agent/publisher..

This past weekend I sent off nearly 20 queries to both Canadian and American agents.  And today, I got my first response.  I sat in front of my computer, excitedly staring at the reply in my mailbox with the subject, Query.

Of course, it was too good to be true.  Who get’s an easy yes?  So I shouldn’t have been surprised when I read the rejection.   But that didn’t lessen the blow.

On the plus side, it was my genre, chick lit, that was rejected, not my book.  But I still think it’s time for me to develop a thicker skin.  Odds are, this won’t be my last roadblock.

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