the speed with which emotions are crushed

It's fast. Take my word for it. Two days, to be exact.

Since October 30th, I've send out forty queries for my current manuscript. That's way more than I've ever sent out - because I've queried before, you see. This is my sixth time. How depressing is that? Anyway, to date, I've gotten six nos, and thirty three nothings. You do the math. Doesn't quite add up, does it?

One is missing. Because I got one yes. Holy crap, right? One lovely agent with fantastic taste asked to read the whole doggone thing. Not the first few chapters. Not the synopsis. She asked for the whole kit and caboodle. And boy, was I excited. Not as excited as I've been in the past (I've gotten two requests other than this one - TOTAL), but I think the hurt and rejection sneaks up on all of us after a while. So sure, I hoped for the best. But deep down I knew. Not because this novel isn't good enough, but still. I just knew.

I got the 'no thanks' today. Ugh. I mean, thanks for reading so fast, dear agent (she asked for the whole thing on Friday), but you could have let the dream reign for a bit longer. She did call it Charlie Kaufman-esque, which is something, I guess. I mean if you're going to get rejected you might as well get vaguely compared to Charlie Kaufman.

You know what's sad, though? I'm not even all that upset about it. Mostly I'm sad that I have to continue querying. When will it be my turn? It's just this stupid feeling of defeat that's tiring. It sucks all the want and will right out.

It won't last long. This six month period of not being able to write much has only fueled the fire. My new job is good. It's overwhelming at times, and maybe a bit suffocating, but overall, it's exactly what I need. It pushes me past my limits of comfort on a daily basis. I need that. Because it's too easy for me to let laziness creep in, to be content with the status quo. So for the first time in my life I've really focused on work. For now. Also, I don't have a laptop at the moment, nor the funds to buy one until after Christmas. And it's too hard to write at the desktop in the living room.

So for now, I'm reading all I can get my hands on, and enjoying it. I'm sending out a query or two a day. And I'm furiously taking notes whenever something pops into my head, which as it turns out, is mostly when I'm driving. Why hello, Officer. Who, me? Texting while driving? No way. Scribbling in a notebook propped up on the steering wheel while navigating with my knees? Well...

Anyway, that's my update. Not that anyone is still reading. And I didn't really want to spend valuable time writing this, but as I've mentioned before, this is for my girl, so she knows why I curse at the computer Those are big girl words, baby, not little girl words and spend time sitting here instead of playing Polly Pockets (well, let's face it, even blogging is preferable to playing Polly Pockets. Damn rubber clothes).

Charlie Kaufman. You don't say. I once did a writing style test that told you what popular authors your writing most resembles, and it spit out Chuck Palahniuk. This novel in fact marks the first I've written from the male POV, and I think that POV will stick (this deserves another post, on another day). I've always been drawn to transgressive fiction and surrealism. Maybe I need to harness it a bit more.

Keep on keepin' on, ya'll.