I'm going through one of those phases again. You know the one...
After polishing and tweaking my query letter and my manuscript, I'm still collecting rejections like Depression Era survivors collect bits of string. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of the whole mess of trying to find an agent, trying to get published. I quit.
I'm not tired of writing, thank goodness. I'm taking a short break while I wait for a critique on one manuscript, for time to pass so I can get a fresh look at another manuscript, and for my muse to get back in the groove on my WIP. Not a big deal. I'm already itching to get back to Blink, but I am forcing myself to take that necessary time. AWJ is still there, waiting, and I still feel good about it - just off track temporarily. The first book is in the hands of my CP, and she'll get it back to me eventually. (No hurry, since I haven't heard from anyone about it, and I don't think I'm likely to at this point.) I won't quit writing. Ever again.
Nope. I quit sending things out to agents, publishers, and lit journals. Of course, some of you may be asking yourselves, if I quit why am I bothering to continue to write, let alone edit. The answer is simple. I do it for myself. I like writing, so I'll keep doing it. I like my books, so I'll continue to make them the best books they can be. I like having people read my books, and get enjoyment from them. That's why I was busting my ass trying to jump through hoops to get them published. I guess I'll just have to live with a choice few people reading and enjoying my books, and not hope to get paid for it, too.
Because, of course, I'd like to get some monetary reward for my hard work. Who wouldn't? Someone is out there right now, getting paid for substandard writing - I know they are, I've read their books. So the question becomes, why can't I get anyone to notice my well-written, above-standard books? *shrug*
Maybe it's this blog. I've never been known for having popular opinions, and I make my opinions known here.
Could be my arrogance. My books are good. I know they're good. I've had non family tell me they're good. We've all read books at one point or another and sat scratching our heads wondering how in the hell anyone could have put those words in print. It's frustrating to know those authors are out there collecting a check while I sit here collecting rejections. Is my arrogance unjustified?
On the other hand, maybe it's less arrogance than frustration. Arrogance would be comparing myself to Ayn Rand or Dumas or Hemingway. I've never done that. I might compare myself to Crichton on occasion, or even Clancy, or the wonderful Ms. Brennan, but I would never sit here and say I'm better than them in any way. Good lord no. As good, maybe, but not better.
So, anyway, I quit. If any of the agents out there who currently have a query from me are reading this, I didn't quit writing, and I sure as hell won't quit wanting to be published. I just quit sending out queries.
For now, anyway. At least until this funk passes.
Yesterday's Negatives and Positives.
15 hours ago