Tell me I can do this. Tell me I should at least try, whether I want to or not. Tell me I'm not as horrible as I think I am.
I spent the last of my Christmas book money on the 2004 Novel and Short Story Writer's Market book today. I then spent the better part of an hour writing down notes and names of agencies who might possibly want to read my writing. I'm actually doing this. I know you must all be sick of reading it by now, but I still can't believe I'm doing this. Over Christmas break I received enough encouragement to spur me on for at least the next few months, to do things I never thought I'd do. It's terrifying on a level I never thought I could achieve by myself.
Granted, it doesn't look as hard as it seems like it should. Hard isn't the right word; it doesn't look as complex as it seems like it should. Submit the manuscript and/or query letter to an agency, let them pimp you out to novel companies. Short stories can probably go on a one-to-one basis, I haven't gotten to those listings yet. I imagine those will be easier to send out than the novels; I'll just need to keep track of what I've sent and to whom.
But I keep running into this part of the listing: Query response in 1 week, in 1 month, in 3 months. And I wonder, how in the nine hells and thirty six minor hecks am I going to be able to stand it. A week, a month, and then a rejection letter? And I know that the first rejection letter, and probably the second and third and fourth, they're all going to send me into paroxysms of self-hatred and despair. I'm sensitive like that, especially where writing is concerned. I'm nervous and paranoid like that. I have the feeling that one rejection letter will be enough to send me into hiding for the next two or three years. And ...
Hell. And I can't even get up the nerve to send up one letter, much less several, so why am I worrying? I need help, I need hope, I need a swift kick to the ass. I'm panicking over the jump and I haven't even stepped onto the plane yet. Somehow I need to find someone to strap the parachute to my back and push me out. Or I'll never fly.
EDIT: Oh yeah,
lieuwecaritas, I found a couple of publishing companies that also do plays and things... for that matter, anyone else want me to make up a little booklet or something of places to share for submission? Just so they don't have to go out and buy the whole book themselves, although I do recommend it.
I spent the last of my Christmas book money on the 2004 Novel and Short Story Writer's Market book today. I then spent the better part of an hour writing down notes and names of agencies who might possibly want to read my writing. I'm actually doing this. I know you must all be sick of reading it by now, but I still can't believe I'm doing this. Over Christmas break I received enough encouragement to spur me on for at least the next few months, to do things I never thought I'd do. It's terrifying on a level I never thought I could achieve by myself.
Granted, it doesn't look as hard as it seems like it should. Hard isn't the right word; it doesn't look as complex as it seems like it should. Submit the manuscript and/or query letter to an agency, let them pimp you out to novel companies. Short stories can probably go on a one-to-one basis, I haven't gotten to those listings yet. I imagine those will be easier to send out than the novels; I'll just need to keep track of what I've sent and to whom.
But I keep running into this part of the listing: Query response in 1 week, in 1 month, in 3 months. And I wonder, how in the nine hells and thirty six minor hecks am I going to be able to stand it. A week, a month, and then a rejection letter? And I know that the first rejection letter, and probably the second and third and fourth, they're all going to send me into paroxysms of self-hatred and despair. I'm sensitive like that, especially where writing is concerned. I'm nervous and paranoid like that. I have the feeling that one rejection letter will be enough to send me into hiding for the next two or three years. And ...
Hell. And I can't even get up the nerve to send up one letter, much less several, so why am I worrying? I need help, I need hope, I need a swift kick to the ass. I'm panicking over the jump and I haven't even stepped onto the plane yet. Somehow I need to find someone to strap the parachute to my back and push me out. Or I'll never fly.
EDIT: Oh yeah,
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