I recently participated in Brenda Drake's Pitch Wars. This is a contest in which writers with a completed manuscript enter to win the chance to work closely with a mentor in order to edit and perfect their manuscript. The mentors are either published authors, editors, or both. There were roughly 108 mentors and about 1,500 entrants. The total number of mentee spots came out to about 125 because some mentors were allowed to take on two mentees. I did not get selected, but truthfully, I wasn't expecting to. I wasn't being pessimistic; I was being realistic. Statistically, the odds weren't in my favor. I'm also beginning to realize that my vampire novel isn't very marketable right now and mentors were mainly looking to take on marketable pieces.
Despite the fact that I didn't "win", I'm glad I entered and feel as though I gained something from the experience. First off, Pitch Wars forced me to buckle down and make the changes to my manuscript that I'd been putting off. It also got me to improve my sub-par query letter.
After participating in a contest that took place earlier in the summer, Michelle Hauck's New Agent, I realized the query I once thought was excellent was actually pretty lame. To be honest, it sucked. And not because it was a query for a vampire novel. It sucked because it was poorly written. That's totally okay though. I think almost everyone initially writes a crappy query letter. Writing and sending out a bad query is all a part of the initiation process.
After New Agent, Michelle was awesome enough to host a query critique blog hop on her blog, which allowed me to get some great critiques and insight on my query. I learned that themes do not belong in a query letter. I also learned to stop trying so hard to be clever. My attempts at being clever left my query with a cutesy tone that did not at all match the voice of my story. I revised my query for Pitch Wars, and I am fairly confident that it is at least ten times better than it was.
The Pitch Wars wait was fun because it put me in touch with a number of like-minded people. I connected with people who understand my love for writing and the overwhelming need to put words onto paper. A number of mentors shared their own experiences with querying. Every single one of them was once where I am now, and I cannot begin to explain how comforting it is to know I'm not alone. I'm currently sitting at twenty-seven rejections, and I've learned that twenty-seven ain't nothin'. Some people hit two-hundred before they finally landed an agent. Yeah, on one level this is seriously daunting, but mostly it's encouraging, because these people never gave up.
All that being said, this seems like as good a time as any to give a shout-out to the mentors and thank them for how awesome they are. They have put a ridiculous amount of time into this contest, especially considering that they all have jobs, school, novels, families, and lives of their own. When I explained to my boyfriend what Pitch Wars was he asked, "What do the mentors get out of it?" I was like, well, they get that warm fuzzy feeling of knowing they're helping people, they're doing what they love, and they're paying forward the help they got when they were in the mentee's position. He looked surprised by this answer so I added, "Writer's are just really nice people."
So, in short, the mentors are awesome.
Many of the mentors are giving feedback to everyone who submitted to them, which is incredibly awesome. Others don't have the time, and that's totally okay. I haven't received any feedback yet, but I've been told by a few of the mentors I subbed to that I will, it just may take some time. I don't mind waiting. Getting feedback from someone who's been through the query trenches is invaluable and a win in itself in my book.
Now that Pitch Wars is over, I've decided what my next move is regarding my Pitch Wars submission. I've decided not to look over my manuscript again, at least not right now. Depending on the feedback I get, this decision may change. I currently have a writer's group friend who is giving it another go, and I will take her feedback into consideration, but at this point in time, I'm leaving it how it is. I'm happy with the edits I gave it to get it ready for Pitch Wars. I will be participating in Pit Mad (yet another Twitter contest) on 9/10. After Pit Mad, I plan to start querying again. Instead of querying agents, I plan to focus my efforts on smaller presses and Indie presses. I feel that this might be a better route to take for this particular story.
I also plan to finish my WIP and start a new novel. Basically, I plan to write write write and never stop.
Why would I ever stop?
In case anyone is wondering, yes, awesome is my favorite word.
Thanks for reading!
Sunday, September 6, 2015
Tuesday, September 1, 2015
The Madness of the Mega-Rejection
Yep. This is another post about rejection. I don't think I've discussed it for at least two or three posts, so I figured it was time to revisit the issue. But I promise not to be a broken record. I have something new to say.
I swear.
I'm starting to learn that for writer's, rejection and writer's block are two topics that can never get enough attention. Since I've yet to experience major issues with writer's block (lucky me, but I've probably just jinxed myself), I'm going to talk about rejection some more.
A quick recap: I'm in the process of trying to get my first novel, New Year's Revolution, published. I've been sending out queries for a little over a year, with a break for more edits at the end of 2014. I've since gotten twenty-seven rejections, and one acceptance that wound up not being a good fit for me or my story (but yay for an acceptance!)
I've recently discovered the joys of the Twitter writing community (I never thought I would call anything related to Twitter a joy) and all of the wonderful writing contests that take place. I've learned many wonderful tips from agents, editors, and other writers and I've just had fun talking and joking around with people. I'm currently waiting on the results of Pitch Wars, which will be revealed in less than twenty-four hours. I don't know if I'll be chosen or not, but I wanted to write this post regardless.
I've been reading a number of Tweets and blog posts about rejection, ways to handle it, what it does and doesn't mean, and so on and so forth. The majority of the things I've seen and read have been very encouraging, but that doesn't change the fact that rejection is hard. It's going to hurt, no matter what.
I understand that being rejected by an agent or a publisher or not being chosen for a contest most likely does not mean my writing is bad. But that's a rational thought, and emotions are completely irrational. Feelings refuse to listen to reason. They're very annoying that way.
The other day I had an epiphany. I have such a hard time with rejection because every time I receive a "thank you, but I must pass" letter from an agent, I'm not thinking just about that one rejection. I'm suddenly remembering all twenty-seven "Thank you, but no" letters I've received. Each time I get a rejection letter, I think of all the rejection letters that came before it. So my twenty-seventh rejection is no longer the twenty-seventh rejection. My mind has turned it into the four-thousandth rejection.
You think that's bad? I'm not done yet.
Upon receiving rejection letters I cry and mutter things like, "nothing ever works out for me" and "I'm never good enough" and "nobody ever chooses me." In my irrational state of sadness, I'm no longer thinking about just my novel. I'm thinking about that three month period in 2000 when I went on about twenty job interviews before finding a job. I'm thinking about the times I didn't get accepted into grad school. I'm thinking about promotions I didn't get, guys who broke up with me, friends who didn't want to hang out with me in middle school. The list goes on.
This is the mega-rejection.
It is madness.
And not the fun, dancing in the booth at the coffee shop to music only I can hear kind of madness, but the no-fun, depressing kind of madness.
Nobody likes that kind of madness.
I feel it necessary to clarify that I'm not a negative person. To those who don't know me it might sound like I am, but I'm not. I try to find a nice balance between optimism and realism. Plus, I recently heard a rumor that the glass can be refilled, so I find that pretty encouraging. Regardless of one's optimism, rejection is hard. If anyone tells you it isn't, they're lying.
Despite the pain of rejection, it's time to stop the madness of the mega-rejection. I doubt I'm the only one who falls into this trap. So let's stop together. The first step is to recognize the sheer irrationality of it. I need to stop re-hashing all my past rejections and "failures" every time something doesn't work out. It's not doing me any good.
It's normal to be sad when something doesn't work out, but why make something worse by dragging up all the other times something hasn't worked out? Like I said, it's madness. Let's stop the bad madness, and get back to the fun madness.
Ooh, a good song just came on. If you need me, I'll be dancing.
As always, thanks for reading!
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
Memory Lane
Last week I wrote about my WIP and how it's partially inspired by some events of my teenage years. So naturally after writing it I found myself traveling down memory lane. One of my favorite things to do back then was attend the Thursday night poetry readings at the Lighthouse Coffee Shop. It was this quaint little pink house that had been converted into a coffee shop/used clothing store. Even in my goth days, when the color pink was anathema, I loved that little pink building. Sadly, it is no longer pink, and no longer a coffee shop.
I dug up this poem I wrote a few years ago about a guy I had a crush on back then. Enjoy!
No One Makes a Florentine Like You Do
Here I enter my weekly wonder,
the only constant in my world asunder.
My mind more a daze than the haze of the smoke-filled
room
crowded with misfits sharing notebooks filled with
gloom.
I wait behind the many followers at your bar,
but your eyes seek me from afar.
You know just what I like while I await to take the
mike,
Your hand brushes against mine as you hand me my
special florentine,
giving my heart a spike.
What to share? What to share?
I think, flipping through my tattered pages of
exaggerated despair,
when your
voice fills the air.
The room falls to a hush.
My heart pounds and my cheeks burn with a blush.
Your words are meant only for me
and my innocent mind fills with thoughts that were
never to be.
You with your experience and never-ending band
of glaring green-eyed beauties. You look only at me,
not even old enough to buy the cigarettes clutched
tightly in my hand.
Ahh, but it wasn't meant to be,
nothing but smiles and comments meant only for me,
And a florentine, served with extra chocolate, whipped cream, and a
wink.
So here I sit half a lifetime later, my drink
now more bitter than sweet, and I think
wherever you are, this is for you.
Thursday, August 20, 2015
In With The New
After dedicating many a post to my first novel and my experiences trying to get it published, I think it's time to start talking about the new novel I'm working on. It's a young adult paranormal fantasy (I think), and I can't begin to express how excited I am about it.
It's takes place in a fictional Colorado mountain town called Caribou Canyon (also the working title). The name is inspired by Caribou, a ghost town in Boulder County that thrived when its silver mines were first discovered. The town never quite bounced back from the fire that took place in 1879.
The story began writing itself in my head long before I actually put anything to paper. I remember the moment the idea first hit me. It was Spring of 2011 and I'd just had the daunting realization that my vampire novel, which I'd thought was complete, needed a lot more work. It was a Friday night and I was sitting at Red Robin with my then boyfriend discussing all the work I had to do on my vampire novel when the idea for the new novel suddenly came to me. I knew I would't be writing it for a while, but it was a huge relief that I had an idea for a new story. I'd been afraid that my first novel was a fluke and I would never have any new ideas.
I now have at least six potential novel ideas floating around my brain, so this is no longer a fear of mine.
It wasn't until Fall of 2013 that I finally started working on Caribou Canyon. Since then, I've been flying by the seat of my pants. It's how I roll. Or fly. At least in rough drafts. I only had a very basic concept in mind: three best friends, a small town, murders, ghosts, and maybe some sort of curse. That might sound like a lot, but since I didn't have any details worked out, it really wasn't much at all. I'm amazed with how the story has evolved, and I even know how it's going to end!
This story has a very special place in my heart. The initial inspiration came from my own tumultuous teenage years. Crazy times. I can't stress that enough. My mom calls those years my "Lost Weekend." She's a John Lennon fan and had to explain that reference to me. It's an apt name. Although it might've been a Lost Weekend, those years were both painful and beautiful, and utterly awesome.
The three main characters are based on myself and my two very best friends ever, Teri and Charla. Words cannot convey how much they meant and still mean to me, and how precious our friendship became in such a short period of time. Teri and I spent about three months living at Charla's house, which is by far one of the most interesting houses I've ever been in.
The house was located in a former mining town. It was built in the early 1900s smack in the middle of a large field. The house had no foundation, so by the late '90s, when I lived there, it was starting to sink into the ground. It was seriously awesome and seriously freaky. The floors were crooked and the walls were dipping in on one side and bulging out on the other. Don't even get me started on that field. It was creepy during the day and downright terrifying at night. Sometimes I couldn't even bring myself to look out the window.
Teri, Charla, and I were three teenagers with wild imaginations and a desperate need to grasp onto something that was meaningful, something that was less frightening than our painful realities. Crazy angst filled teens and a horror writer's dream house is a recipe for wild times and a lot of groupthink fed delusions. It was good times. Painful, but good.
For my novel, I traded in the "haunted" house for an entire haunted town. I took away the groupthink delusions and replaced them with actual paranormal activity.
My main characters are based on Teri, Charla, and myself. Penny is the good girl, the quiet shy book worm. She represents me. Frankie is the angry rebel and is supposed to represent Charla. Natasha is the outgoing beauty who is supposed to represent Teri.
But when I started writing, I realized that Frankie and Natasha didn't represent Charla and Teri. At least not completely. They are as much me as Penny is. Penny is the ambitious, nothing-is-ever-good-enough, perfect Becky, who finally cracked under the pressure of high school. Frankie is the result of me cracking. Natasha is the girl that nerdy, friendless Becky always longed to be.
Each girl is a different part of me, though I still like to think of Frankie and Natasha as Charla and Teri. Those girls still mean the world to me. They taught me what true friendship and love is. I hope to do our friendship justice with this novel.
Teri and Charla, if you guys are reading this, I love you.
All right, now that I've gotten all gooey and emotional and teary-eyed, I'm going to sign off. As always, thanks for reading.
It's takes place in a fictional Colorado mountain town called Caribou Canyon (also the working title). The name is inspired by Caribou, a ghost town in Boulder County that thrived when its silver mines were first discovered. The town never quite bounced back from the fire that took place in 1879.
The story began writing itself in my head long before I actually put anything to paper. I remember the moment the idea first hit me. It was Spring of 2011 and I'd just had the daunting realization that my vampire novel, which I'd thought was complete, needed a lot more work. It was a Friday night and I was sitting at Red Robin with my then boyfriend discussing all the work I had to do on my vampire novel when the idea for the new novel suddenly came to me. I knew I would't be writing it for a while, but it was a huge relief that I had an idea for a new story. I'd been afraid that my first novel was a fluke and I would never have any new ideas.
I now have at least six potential novel ideas floating around my brain, so this is no longer a fear of mine.
It wasn't until Fall of 2013 that I finally started working on Caribou Canyon. Since then, I've been flying by the seat of my pants. It's how I roll. Or fly. At least in rough drafts. I only had a very basic concept in mind: three best friends, a small town, murders, ghosts, and maybe some sort of curse. That might sound like a lot, but since I didn't have any details worked out, it really wasn't much at all. I'm amazed with how the story has evolved, and I even know how it's going to end!
This story has a very special place in my heart. The initial inspiration came from my own tumultuous teenage years. Crazy times. I can't stress that enough. My mom calls those years my "Lost Weekend." She's a John Lennon fan and had to explain that reference to me. It's an apt name. Although it might've been a Lost Weekend, those years were both painful and beautiful, and utterly awesome.
The three main characters are based on myself and my two very best friends ever, Teri and Charla. Words cannot convey how much they meant and still mean to me, and how precious our friendship became in such a short period of time. Teri and I spent about three months living at Charla's house, which is by far one of the most interesting houses I've ever been in.
The house was located in a former mining town. It was built in the early 1900s smack in the middle of a large field. The house had no foundation, so by the late '90s, when I lived there, it was starting to sink into the ground. It was seriously awesome and seriously freaky. The floors were crooked and the walls were dipping in on one side and bulging out on the other. Don't even get me started on that field. It was creepy during the day and downright terrifying at night. Sometimes I couldn't even bring myself to look out the window.
Teri, Charla, and I were three teenagers with wild imaginations and a desperate need to grasp onto something that was meaningful, something that was less frightening than our painful realities. Crazy angst filled teens and a horror writer's dream house is a recipe for wild times and a lot of groupthink fed delusions. It was good times. Painful, but good.
For my novel, I traded in the "haunted" house for an entire haunted town. I took away the groupthink delusions and replaced them with actual paranormal activity.
My main characters are based on Teri, Charla, and myself. Penny is the good girl, the quiet shy book worm. She represents me. Frankie is the angry rebel and is supposed to represent Charla. Natasha is the outgoing beauty who is supposed to represent Teri.
But when I started writing, I realized that Frankie and Natasha didn't represent Charla and Teri. At least not completely. They are as much me as Penny is. Penny is the ambitious, nothing-is-ever-good-enough, perfect Becky, who finally cracked under the pressure of high school. Frankie is the result of me cracking. Natasha is the girl that nerdy, friendless Becky always longed to be.
Each girl is a different part of me, though I still like to think of Frankie and Natasha as Charla and Teri. Those girls still mean the world to me. They taught me what true friendship and love is. I hope to do our friendship justice with this novel.
Teri and Charla, if you guys are reading this, I love you.
All right, now that I've gotten all gooey and emotional and teary-eyed, I'm going to sign off. As always, thanks for reading.
Thursday, August 13, 2015
The Miserable Un-Accomplishments of Becky
Yesterday I told my friend to use this as a blog title, and I was totally kidding. Then I told her that I was going to use it as a title, and I was still kidding. But I woke up this morning and thought, "Wow, I have lots of miserable un-accomplishments to share." By miserable, I mean so ridiculously pathetic that I can only laugh at myself, and encourage others to laugh at me as well.
Back in college when I was working on my BA in psychology, I took a course titled Behavioral Neuroscience. This was a combination upper division/graduate level course. The only difference between the grads and the undergrads was that the grads had to do an extra paper. It was a tough class. In retrospect, I'm not even sure why I took it. I'm not a science-minded person. Needless to say, I got a D in the course.
Lucky for me, the university was testing out their course forgiveness program. If you received an undesirable grade, you were allowed to repeat the course the next semester. After completing the course a second time, the new grade would be the one recorded on the student's transcript, regardless of whether or not it was better than the first. I gladly took the course again. Guess what happened? I got an F the second time around. Yep. I repeated the course only to have my bad grade replaced by a worse grade.
Go ahead. Laugh. I do. It's funny, and it's easy to laugh now because I still managed to graduate with a decent GPA.
My next un-accomplishment is in regards to my quest to get my novel published. During the first eight or so months of querying agents, my manuscript was 124,000 words. For those who don't know, 80-100k is the standard word count for an adult novel. There's nothing wrong with longer novels, but in a new writer, it can be a sign that one has yet to perfect their craft. I of course was certain that I needed all 124k of those words.
I met an agent at a conference, who was the first to request sample chapters. She ended up passing on the project. A few weeks later I had a major epiphany about how to shorten my manuscript. It's now 96k. Yay! I was upset that I hadn't had this epiphany before I'd sent my chapters to this agent. I looked at her agent page again and discovered that she accepts revisions, which is pretty rare. So I queried her again, and again she requested sample chapters only to pass on the project.
Again.
I got rejected by the same agent for the same project twice. I'm still a bit embarrassed/sad about this, but I'm trying to laugh. I bet a few years from now I'll find it really funny, so you can go ahead and laugh now.
Okay, I've saved the best for last.
I used to own a VW Jetta. I bought it at a shady little used car lot which caused me a bit of trouble, though that's a story for another time. They gave me the car with only one key. It was one of those fancy switch blade-esque key fobs with that weird electronic key. If I'd known better, I would've demanded that they provide me a spare, but I didn't know better. When I went to the VW dealer to get a spare, I learned that another fob would cost $400 and a valet key would be $250. I was a student at the time, so paying that amount of money for a key was out of the question. I decided to risk having only one key. It worked out just fine for about four years.
After college I got a job at a mental health center for incarcerated adolescents. I always used the bathroom before my shift started, because during the shift it could be hard to get away. I was wearing a sweatshirt with pockets in the front, which was where I'd stuffed my car keys. When I leaned over to flush the toilet, my keys slipped out of my pocket into the toilet. Time slowed during those horrifying seconds as I watched my keys swirl around and disappear. I reached for them (ick) but I was too late. This wasn't just one key either. It was a big clunky key chain with lots of useless things on it.
My car key was not useless. Nor were my facility keys.
I had to ask another staff member to walk me through a number of locked doors to get to maintenance. When I told Mr. Maintenance I flushed my keys down the toilet, I was so embarrassed that I couldn't stop laughing. I think he thought I was joking. He stared at me blankly for a full minute before he realized I was serious. He finally grabbed some long stick thing and we headed back to the bathroom.
It was a single person bathroom and someone was in there by the time we got back. Mr. Maintenance knocked on the door and briefly explained the situation. He asked the woman inside not to flush the toilet, to which she replied, "Are you sure? It's not pretty in there."
Yeah. She said that.
Oh, are you wondering who was in the bathroom? It was the president of the company. That's right. My boss's boss's boss.
She opened the door a crack so Mr. Maintenance could hand her the weird fishing tool. She closed the door and tried to pull out my car keys while Mr. Maintenance yelled instructions through the door. By the that time, a number of people had poked their heads out of their office doors to see what was going on.
Unfortunately, my keys were irretrievable. The funny thing was, the toilet never clogged. That was some good plumbing. Luckily, my boss felt so bad for me that he waived the $150 replacement fee for the facility keys. It wasn't so easy for my car though. I had to get it towed to the VW dealership so they could program a new key, and pay several hundred dollars for a replacement. I learned my lesson and got two replacements.
I'm sure I have more hilarious un-accomplishments to share, but I don't think anything can top the key story. That was seven years ago, and I still can't stop laughing about it. If you aren't laughing, then you have no sense of humor.
As always, thanks for reading.
Back in college when I was working on my BA in psychology, I took a course titled Behavioral Neuroscience. This was a combination upper division/graduate level course. The only difference between the grads and the undergrads was that the grads had to do an extra paper. It was a tough class. In retrospect, I'm not even sure why I took it. I'm not a science-minded person. Needless to say, I got a D in the course.
Lucky for me, the university was testing out their course forgiveness program. If you received an undesirable grade, you were allowed to repeat the course the next semester. After completing the course a second time, the new grade would be the one recorded on the student's transcript, regardless of whether or not it was better than the first. I gladly took the course again. Guess what happened? I got an F the second time around. Yep. I repeated the course only to have my bad grade replaced by a worse grade.
Go ahead. Laugh. I do. It's funny, and it's easy to laugh now because I still managed to graduate with a decent GPA.
My next un-accomplishment is in regards to my quest to get my novel published. During the first eight or so months of querying agents, my manuscript was 124,000 words. For those who don't know, 80-100k is the standard word count for an adult novel. There's nothing wrong with longer novels, but in a new writer, it can be a sign that one has yet to perfect their craft. I of course was certain that I needed all 124k of those words.
I met an agent at a conference, who was the first to request sample chapters. She ended up passing on the project. A few weeks later I had a major epiphany about how to shorten my manuscript. It's now 96k. Yay! I was upset that I hadn't had this epiphany before I'd sent my chapters to this agent. I looked at her agent page again and discovered that she accepts revisions, which is pretty rare. So I queried her again, and again she requested sample chapters only to pass on the project.
Again.
I got rejected by the same agent for the same project twice. I'm still a bit embarrassed/sad about this, but I'm trying to laugh. I bet a few years from now I'll find it really funny, so you can go ahead and laugh now.
Okay, I've saved the best for last.
I used to own a VW Jetta. I bought it at a shady little used car lot which caused me a bit of trouble, though that's a story for another time. They gave me the car with only one key. It was one of those fancy switch blade-esque key fobs with that weird electronic key. If I'd known better, I would've demanded that they provide me a spare, but I didn't know better. When I went to the VW dealer to get a spare, I learned that another fob would cost $400 and a valet key would be $250. I was a student at the time, so paying that amount of money for a key was out of the question. I decided to risk having only one key. It worked out just fine for about four years.
After college I got a job at a mental health center for incarcerated adolescents. I always used the bathroom before my shift started, because during the shift it could be hard to get away. I was wearing a sweatshirt with pockets in the front, which was where I'd stuffed my car keys. When I leaned over to flush the toilet, my keys slipped out of my pocket into the toilet. Time slowed during those horrifying seconds as I watched my keys swirl around and disappear. I reached for them (ick) but I was too late. This wasn't just one key either. It was a big clunky key chain with lots of useless things on it.
My car key was not useless. Nor were my facility keys.
I had to ask another staff member to walk me through a number of locked doors to get to maintenance. When I told Mr. Maintenance I flushed my keys down the toilet, I was so embarrassed that I couldn't stop laughing. I think he thought I was joking. He stared at me blankly for a full minute before he realized I was serious. He finally grabbed some long stick thing and we headed back to the bathroom.
It was a single person bathroom and someone was in there by the time we got back. Mr. Maintenance knocked on the door and briefly explained the situation. He asked the woman inside not to flush the toilet, to which she replied, "Are you sure? It's not pretty in there."
Yeah. She said that.
Oh, are you wondering who was in the bathroom? It was the president of the company. That's right. My boss's boss's boss.
She opened the door a crack so Mr. Maintenance could hand her the weird fishing tool. She closed the door and tried to pull out my car keys while Mr. Maintenance yelled instructions through the door. By the that time, a number of people had poked their heads out of their office doors to see what was going on.
Unfortunately, my keys were irretrievable. The funny thing was, the toilet never clogged. That was some good plumbing. Luckily, my boss felt so bad for me that he waived the $150 replacement fee for the facility keys. It wasn't so easy for my car though. I had to get it towed to the VW dealership so they could program a new key, and pay several hundred dollars for a replacement. I learned my lesson and got two replacements.
I'm sure I have more hilarious un-accomplishments to share, but I don't think anything can top the key story. That was seven years ago, and I still can't stop laughing about it. If you aren't laughing, then you have no sense of humor.
As always, thanks for reading.
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
Once upon a time there were Elven Space Vampires who controlled the galaxy...
Yep. That was totally a thing. Once upon a time. Guess what? That time is now. Because why shouldn't there be Elven Space Vampires taking over the entire galaxy?
All right, perhaps I should back up a bit. Many of you know that I've been querying my post-apocalyptic vampire novel. You also know that I am up to 27 rejections. It's harsh, but I remain determined. Determined enough to create Elven Space Vampires.
Oops, I jumped ahead again.
One of the hardest things about being rejected is that it is difficult to know why you are being rejected. Is it the writing? Is it the query letter? Is it the fact that the market is no longer ripe for vampires? Or is it some other reason that I've yet to even think of?
I suspect it might largely be due to the fact that the vampire ship has temporarily sailed, however I hate to simply leave it at that because it seems like a cop out on my part. If I blame it on the market, I'm leaving no accountability for my own writing, and I know that I have room to improve. There is always room to improve.
Of my 27 queries, only once did I receive a partial request. This lets me know that my rejections were either due to a poor query letter, or the market not having enough fresh blood for the vampires. I suppose the solution is to address both issues. So, much to my discontent, I will be rewriting my query. Because I'm into self-torture. Yep. Writing a query is self-torture. All right, I'm being slightly melodramatic, but hey, I'm a writer. So, to address this issue, I've posted my query and first page on my blog. If you'd like to take part in ripping my query to shreds, see my previous post "Give me your best shot." (Update: I received a ton of good feedback and have taken the post down. Thanks to everyone who contributed.)
Okay, so I've addressed the query issue. What about the market issue? Never fear. That's where the Elven Space Vampires come in. I've done some research and have discovered that many agents are looking for space operas. Fairy tale reworks are also in style, and high fantasy is still alive and kicking.
Does this mean I should write a space opera, rework a fairy tale, or create a whole new universe? Nope. By the time I finished that, agents would be looking for something else. So I've come up with a much easier solution: rework my current manuscript. It shouldn't be that hard. I've got vampires taking over Earth. So, I just need to make the vampires come from another planet. Simple.
As far as the high fantasy elements, I just need to give my vampires pointy ears and Elven magic. Easy. Elven vampires from planet Elvampiter (Hey, I wrote an entire novel, I don't have time to think of a better planet name). Instead of conquering Earth, they conquer multiple planets. Easy.
Oh, the fairy tale part. I almost forget. I'll just begin with "Once upon a time…" That's all that makes a fairy tale, right? Okay, I guess I can throw in a red cape just to be on the safe side. Yeah, that's it. And my MC can wear glass slippers that give her psychic powers. Awesome. Problem solved. Soon I will have a post-apocalyptic space opera fairy tale urban romantic fantasy. Look for it on shelves near you.
(If you do happen to see something like this on the shelves, I suggest you run the other way.)
Feel free to check out my query. Any comments are greatly appreciated. As always, thanks for reading.
All right, perhaps I should back up a bit. Many of you know that I've been querying my post-apocalyptic vampire novel. You also know that I am up to 27 rejections. It's harsh, but I remain determined. Determined enough to create Elven Space Vampires.
Oops, I jumped ahead again.
One of the hardest things about being rejected is that it is difficult to know why you are being rejected. Is it the writing? Is it the query letter? Is it the fact that the market is no longer ripe for vampires? Or is it some other reason that I've yet to even think of?
I suspect it might largely be due to the fact that the vampire ship has temporarily sailed, however I hate to simply leave it at that because it seems like a cop out on my part. If I blame it on the market, I'm leaving no accountability for my own writing, and I know that I have room to improve. There is always room to improve.
Of my 27 queries, only once did I receive a partial request. This lets me know that my rejections were either due to a poor query letter, or the market not having enough fresh blood for the vampires. I suppose the solution is to address both issues. So, much to my discontent, I will be rewriting my query. Because I'm into self-torture. Yep. Writing a query is self-torture. All right, I'm being slightly melodramatic, but hey, I'm a writer. So, to address this issue, I've posted my query and first page on my blog. If you'd like to take part in ripping my query to shreds, see my previous post "Give me your best shot." (Update: I received a ton of good feedback and have taken the post down. Thanks to everyone who contributed.)
Okay, so I've addressed the query issue. What about the market issue? Never fear. That's where the Elven Space Vampires come in. I've done some research and have discovered that many agents are looking for space operas. Fairy tale reworks are also in style, and high fantasy is still alive and kicking.
Does this mean I should write a space opera, rework a fairy tale, or create a whole new universe? Nope. By the time I finished that, agents would be looking for something else. So I've come up with a much easier solution: rework my current manuscript. It shouldn't be that hard. I've got vampires taking over Earth. So, I just need to make the vampires come from another planet. Simple.
As far as the high fantasy elements, I just need to give my vampires pointy ears and Elven magic. Easy. Elven vampires from planet Elvampiter (Hey, I wrote an entire novel, I don't have time to think of a better planet name). Instead of conquering Earth, they conquer multiple planets. Easy.
Oh, the fairy tale part. I almost forget. I'll just begin with "Once upon a time…" That's all that makes a fairy tale, right? Okay, I guess I can throw in a red cape just to be on the safe side. Yeah, that's it. And my MC can wear glass slippers that give her psychic powers. Awesome. Problem solved. Soon I will have a post-apocalyptic space opera fairy tale urban romantic fantasy. Look for it on shelves near you.
(If you do happen to see something like this on the shelves, I suggest you run the other way.)
Feel free to check out my query. Any comments are greatly appreciated. As always, thanks for reading.
Tuesday, July 7, 2015
The Ugly Green Monster
I have a confession. I love monsters. If you know me, this comes as no surprise. While vampires are my first love, they are not the only creatures of the night I worship and adore. Ghosts; zombies; wights; werewolves; heck, were-anything; wendigos; chupacabras; demons; you name the monster, I love it. (I apologize to any monsters that have unintentionally been left off the list. I promise, I love you too.) Monsters are so much fun to write about. You can take all the legends and lore and use them however you like, while putting your own spin on things. It's just plain awesome.
There is, however, one monster I don't like. The ugly green monster. Jealousy. Envy. Resentment. Does anyone feel like they're back in Elementary School? I do, but I feel the need to address this in order to make the feelings go away. I hate the green monster. It lurks inside me, hiding from others, but rearing its ugly head. It's evil, but I can't get rid of it.
I thought about a stake to the heart, but it's just a giant green blob; I couldn't find its heart. I thought maybe I'd wear garlic to protect myself, but I love garlic so much I just wound up cooking with it. I put salt lines over the windows and doors of my apartment, wore silver jewelry, and even carried around an iron rod. Nothing worked. I guess that means I have to conquer the monster the old-fashioned way: by owning up to my feelings. Shiver.
I am now up to 27 rejections on my novel, and it's not getting any easier. I have no intention of giving up, but each new rejection is a weight on my shoulders. I've recently started participating in a number of Twitter pitching contests. These contests are great. They help connect writers with other writers and create a sense of community. However, they are pretty competitive. Whenever something is competitive, that means there will be disappointment for someone. As it turns out, I am one of those someones.
It isn't just the disappointment that bothers me. I know that's a part of the process, and I don't regret trying. What bothers me is that I'm so disappointed that I often have a hard time being happy for those who've succeeded. Looking at the Twitter feed for the most recent contest I entered and seeing everyone talk about how awesome the winners are makes me feel even more heavy with disappointment. Part of me doesn't even want to look at Twitter right now, because it's hard to see everyone cheering about the winners. It's a terrible feeling, but I don't know how to make it go away.
I think maybe there's a part of me that believes there can only be so many successful people, and if one person succeeds, that's one less spot for me. In the grand scheme of things, I know this isn't true, but I also know these feelings aren't rational. It's not as though I wish bad things upon those who succeed, I just have a hard time feeling happy for them while I'm feeling sad for myself.
About a year ago, my boyfriend interviewed for a promotion. He was narrowly passed up for the job for another candidate. This other candidate was highly qualified, a great worker, and a great person. My boyfriend was disappointed he didn't get the position, but it was obvious that he was genuinely happy for the other guy. I was both amazed and impressed that he was able to feel both upset for himself and happy for someone else. I would like to achieve those feelings myself one day.
I don't want to feel this way. I want to be happy for the success of others, and deep down I am, it's just hard not to think about my own lack of success. To be honest, admitting these feelings of jealousy is very hard for me. No one likes the ugly feelings, and no one wants others to know they are having the ugly feelings. I'm hoping that maybe it's like the saying goes: admitting is the first step. If I open up about my jealousy, maybe I can vanquish the monster for good.
I read through some of the winning entries. They were pretty darn good. Definitely deserving of being the winners. But it doesn't make me feel any better about my 27 rejections.
If anyone has any thoughts and tips for how to deal with these feelings, please share. If you happen to know of a combination of herbs that will banish the monster, please share that as well.
As always, thank you for reading.
There is, however, one monster I don't like. The ugly green monster. Jealousy. Envy. Resentment. Does anyone feel like they're back in Elementary School? I do, but I feel the need to address this in order to make the feelings go away. I hate the green monster. It lurks inside me, hiding from others, but rearing its ugly head. It's evil, but I can't get rid of it.
I thought about a stake to the heart, but it's just a giant green blob; I couldn't find its heart. I thought maybe I'd wear garlic to protect myself, but I love garlic so much I just wound up cooking with it. I put salt lines over the windows and doors of my apartment, wore silver jewelry, and even carried around an iron rod. Nothing worked. I guess that means I have to conquer the monster the old-fashioned way: by owning up to my feelings. Shiver.
I am now up to 27 rejections on my novel, and it's not getting any easier. I have no intention of giving up, but each new rejection is a weight on my shoulders. I've recently started participating in a number of Twitter pitching contests. These contests are great. They help connect writers with other writers and create a sense of community. However, they are pretty competitive. Whenever something is competitive, that means there will be disappointment for someone. As it turns out, I am one of those someones.
It isn't just the disappointment that bothers me. I know that's a part of the process, and I don't regret trying. What bothers me is that I'm so disappointed that I often have a hard time being happy for those who've succeeded. Looking at the Twitter feed for the most recent contest I entered and seeing everyone talk about how awesome the winners are makes me feel even more heavy with disappointment. Part of me doesn't even want to look at Twitter right now, because it's hard to see everyone cheering about the winners. It's a terrible feeling, but I don't know how to make it go away.
I think maybe there's a part of me that believes there can only be so many successful people, and if one person succeeds, that's one less spot for me. In the grand scheme of things, I know this isn't true, but I also know these feelings aren't rational. It's not as though I wish bad things upon those who succeed, I just have a hard time feeling happy for them while I'm feeling sad for myself.
About a year ago, my boyfriend interviewed for a promotion. He was narrowly passed up for the job for another candidate. This other candidate was highly qualified, a great worker, and a great person. My boyfriend was disappointed he didn't get the position, but it was obvious that he was genuinely happy for the other guy. I was both amazed and impressed that he was able to feel both upset for himself and happy for someone else. I would like to achieve those feelings myself one day.
I don't want to feel this way. I want to be happy for the success of others, and deep down I am, it's just hard not to think about my own lack of success. To be honest, admitting these feelings of jealousy is very hard for me. No one likes the ugly feelings, and no one wants others to know they are having the ugly feelings. I'm hoping that maybe it's like the saying goes: admitting is the first step. If I open up about my jealousy, maybe I can vanquish the monster for good.
I read through some of the winning entries. They were pretty darn good. Definitely deserving of being the winners. But it doesn't make me feel any better about my 27 rejections.
If anyone has any thoughts and tips for how to deal with these feelings, please share. If you happen to know of a combination of herbs that will banish the monster, please share that as well.
As always, thank you for reading.
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