Mostly I just litter up my Gmail inbox. Most are short and sweet, "I'm going to have to take a pass" and "clearly you've got talent" etc, etc, etc. Polite boilerplate. Today I got an actual paper rejection - and I'm not sure what to think. This is part of what the agent said (not the nice parts, which there were plenty of, just the part that's stuck in my brain):

"Although you have a great concept, I feel as if the characters, particularly Francine and Smash, fall flat. This lack of dynamic characters pulls attention from your very interesting concept. Developing them more thoroughly, perhaps via inner thoughts and/or deeper conversations between each other, will definitely make the plot/storyline more effective and meaningful."

And here's what I'm thinking as a result (in no particular order they just keep cycling):
CRAP! What am I doing wrong? Are they flat? They can't be flat, they're witting and interesting people! Wait, I think they are, are they? But she only read 50 pages! But she's a professional. If my book doesn't grab people in the first 50, they aren't going to get very far. CRAP, CRAP, CRAP! They're teenagers they don't need to be that deep! Yes they do. It was seriously nice that she was specific in her rejection, that doesn't happen very often. CRAP. She still took a pass.When am I going to find someone who loves this book as much as I do? What does she mean they fall flat?

The adult response here is to take yet another look at my manuscript and decide if there are changes I can make that would improve it. My goal is to be a professional, and that means walking that line between my instincts and the editorial feedback I get.

I need to let this stuff sink in before I jump in with both feet. Which is a nice way of saying I'm going to wallow for a few days.

Answer me this: Why can't I listen to music CDs or burn CDs on the CD-RW/DVD drive on my laptop, but DVDs play just fine?

I will admitt, most of my tech knowledge is learned on the fly, and since I pick it up fairly easily, I look super-smart to those who don't pick it up at all. This systems of appearing smarter and more learned then I am has worked fairly well for me for the last few years. I can usually figure out what's wrong with something and fix it, or at least, make it work (which is entirely different then fixing something).

But the CD issue continues to stump me.

Any ideas would be most welcome.

Christmas is in three weeks and it just... doesn't feel like a big deal. Like, I've bought some presents and I've listened to music, and all that, but... ehh. I guess it's just that Charlie Brown feeling - I just don't feel very christmasy. No matter that I now have cable and access to Hallmark Channel's spate of holiday movie-of-the-week selections, I just continue to wish Christmas was the big deal it was when I was young. Maybe it'll be different if I have a family of my own at some point, but right now...again...ehh.

I'm back to working on a novel that I've made fits and starts on for the past...many, many years. I don't know if I'll continue, but, having a project, something different from Smashing, but still in the genre I want to write in, is good for me. The big problem in the past was that I was never sure where I was going with this novel, but, I think I know now. I'm shooting for a pretty simple story, girls likes boy, boy likes girl but screws up because he's got a lot going on. I guess we'll see. It doesn't have a title, but,here's my new stab at the opening:

( Read more... )

I can't seem to shake a feeling of sleepiness today. Perhaps it's because I was up so late plotting the destruction of Alderaan? Anyhow, I could use a little sleepy-time. Sadly, that isn't going to happen. I've got to finish unpacking at some point. Right now you can't enter the door to my bedroom without running into a pile of boxes.

What else? Oh, I realized I'm wholly unprepared for winter. It's been a surprisingly moderate fall, hence I haven't worn a scarf or carried gloves around with me. I no longer own a shovel to dig my car out when the snow hits. I did buy some new boots, but I haven't taken them out of my car (the Mobile Storage Unit) yet. The boots are hot pink plastic and I got them for 9 dollars. Last year I spent 60-something on really fancy black winter boots only to discover on day 1 they weren't actually waterproof. If my 9 dollar boots keep my feet dry (I'm not counting on warm, that's what socks are for), I'll consider it money well spent. Also, did I mention they were hot pink? To hell with not attracting attention, where's that ever gotten me?

Also, I'm totally having an ugly week. Not in the so lately typical "I've been struggling with depression because my job makes me miserable" way, but in the literal, "Wow, I have really let myself go" kind of way. Now, I think of myself as completely adorable, because, you know, my mom raised me to have an outrageously disproportionate sense of self-worth, so, these realizations that my nails are all raggedy, and my skin is kind of dry, and I have this one pimple on my cheek that's driving me crazy by not leaving in a timely fashion, are kind of bugging me. I need a hair cut and some makeup and... you know, personal care stuff. And some time to use it all.

There's just one big problem. I do not currently have a debit card. Because some little nuisance in Michigan tried to steal my identity and spend $400 at a Kmart. So I had to cancel the card, and I haven't gotten the new one yet. Another reason to avoid the Midwest, I suppose. So until I can remedy the situation, I'm just going to continue to blame this week's ugly on having two jobs.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to find something sugary to wake me up.

I lost my voice. Not that I can't talk at all, but in a "it comes and goes" sort of way. Mostly, I'm just whispering today.

And I must say, it's super hot.

Okay, no, it's frustrating and gross, and I can't answer my own phone.

I have no idea how I'm going to go to Doll Heaven and work. Smile and fake it, like always, I guess. If I try really hard I can squeak out a few words in almost normal voice. It hurts like hell, but I manage.

A few things:

1. It is impossible to be sad while ABBA is playing.
2. I put Christmas music on the radio the other day, on purpose. Why? I was sad (and there was no ABBA to be found), and I needed a little manufactured cheer.
3. It's less than six week to the holiday, so what if it's before Thanksgiving?
4. Friday is payday for Doll Heaven. Saturday I move.
5. Saturday I also work 11 - 8, so that's going to be fun in a "I hope my stuff makes it to the new place without me" way.
6. I'm going to take some cough syrup and hope there's a miracle cure under its childproof cap.

1. I continue to be sick. I haven't got much of a voice today, and so I'm home, nursing myself with tea and cupcakes.
2. Doll Heaven continues to be an interesting place to work part-time. It's exhausting, but, seriously, it's a doll store. It's kind of fun. Also, I work with a women who lectures customers on doll hair and has said she has over 100 of the dolls. She's currently building them a house. I find her facinating in a "crazy cat lady" sort of way.
3. I have three agencies reading partials of my book. Just as I got a rejection last week, the next day I got a new request, so I'm back up to three. It's such a long, slow process. I don't want to jinx myself by thinking too much about them, especially since no one is reading the full manuscript. It could be several weeks before I hear anything, or I could hear nothing, and have to assume rejection. A little disheartening, but hope springs eternal.
4. All I want for Christmas is a book deal.
5. Also, a Kindle.

Despite the hand sanitizer, frequent hand-washing, and preventative vitamin C, I've come down with a cold. It's early yet, I'm at that miserable, stuffed up stage where I can't breathe well, and I sound like death.

So that's fun.

Oh the joys of retail....

Today was my first day "on the floor" at the new part-time job - i.e., helping the customers instead of just sitting in a little tiny room learning the policies and procedures. It was a Saturday.

It was chaos.

The store is exactly the opposite of the bookstore, with its warehouse-like feel and miles and miles of dirty, rough-hewn wooden shelves. I should probably give the new place a code name...but calling it the first thing that occurs to me, mecca for little girls, sounds a bit... blasphemous. I'll have to think about it, although it shouldn't be too hard to figure out, if you know anything about brands aimed at children.

The store is bright, pink, sparkly, and filled with very expensive dolls.

It attracts droves of little girls that walk in, clutching their dolls, some of whom are pristine, some well-played with, and the occasional one that looks like the victim of a horrible clowning accident. They are all loved, regardless. The girls with their dolls roam about the store in shock, awe, and wonder. And every once in a while there's a tantrum thrown.

In this last regard, little girls are lot like graduate students. So really, my jobs aren't all that different. Well, except that at the University things can't be made better with a free sticker.

Being Saturday, a day when little girls are not in school, they arrived in packs. Watching them come rushing in the front doors like flash flood waters, I never felt so tall.  Honest.

I handed out stickers, I smiled a lot. I spent a lot of time on the registers. I must have rung up a hundred sales. One of them was under 20 dollars. The rest averaged around 200, with the largest being over 700. Seriously, what Recession? You would not know anyone in the country was having financial issues if you this store were part of your random data sample. It would seriously throw off the curve.

What I did not do at any point today was think about my problems.  I was too busy, and let me tell you, that was great. I had no time to dwell. I was too busy working.  And here is where I make yet another great discovery: when I am busy, I do not have time to be depressed. Why didn't I realize this sooner?

Some other discoveries: shoe inserts meant for women's shoes do not work. Also, heeled shoes? BAD for retail. My feet were so sore by the time my shift was over, I thought I was going to faint. By the time I stumbled back to my car, I was in serious pain. I'm going to have to find some other shoes to wear before Monday. At first I was bummed I wouldn't be working Sunday, what with loosing out on time and a half, but, thank goodness I'm not.  I need some recovery time.

Today is a big day at work, and thus, my goal is to be in at 6:30.

Errgggg.

On the plus side, I'll have plenty of time to get things done before the line at my door and the "Melissa, do you have a minute?"s begin.

On the minus side, this way, way early even for me.

I got a parking pass for work. It is not free, and and it not exactly cheap, but for never, ever getting on the 57 bus out of Brighton ever, ever (well, almost ever) again, it is worth it.

Starting off each day feeling like I want to hurt someone (usually the person who stands too close, smells funny or is just plain giving off the crazy), is not my preferred way to start the day.

Environmentalists, please don't judge. I know public transportation is better for planet and all that, but OH MY GOD, I just can't take it any more. I've ridden enough buses and subways in my time. Right now, I'm done.

Speaking of which, I'm going to go get in my car now.

I'm spending the day trying to figure out what's up with my book. I had this dream last night that I was sitting at a table, with a paper copy of my manuscript in front of me, wiping it down with a paper towel. As far as dreams as metaphor go, it was pretty clear. The book needs a polish. I just wish I had the confidence that anything I'm going to do today is going to help.

This shaken confidence is a result of .... well, everything that has been going wrong lately. And while I have been vague about a lot of that, trust me, sometimes, it's just overwhelming.

I'm trying to combat these feelings in the following ways:

1. I remind myself hourly that everything could change tomorrow. Better stuff could be just around the corner.
2. I have made some efforts to change what I can. I've put resumes out there. I've done what I can about the house stuff. I have a part-time job interview next week. I've got half a dozen query letters out there, and oh yeah,
3. All those query letters are for a book I love.

But that said, I am just not sure what to do about the book. I don't even know that it needs polishing.

Writing is subjective. If I didn't know that before I started sending out query letters and copies of my book, I have plenty of evidence. Just about every rejection letter says something to the effect of "remember, tastes are subjective,..." Not many of them say anything that actually helps process the rejection, but there you go.

There's just no way for me to control where I am in the process of trying to get this book published. I'm just at that frustrating stage where I have to continue to wait. As a generally impatient person, I hate waiting. So much.

So what can I do? Polish up a manuscript, and hope that helps.

I'm feeling a lot better now, after what seemed like a really terrible stretch. Everything just seemed to be weighing down on me - to the point that I just had to start changing things. And not that I've been able to do that much, but I feel like I have something of a plan. At least in terms of how to set myself up for things to be different.

In short: I need a new job, a new house, and less debt. To whit: I'm searching and trying to figure out my best course of action.

It's very frustrating, especially with other things I want to do: Like finish the last details of my book and send it out and all that.


I'll spare you most of the details, only because I'm trying to focus on the positive aspects of change, rather than the "Oh My God, How The Hell Did I Get Here?"

Anyhow this is to say, things don't seem so bad this week, so maybe I can go back to feeling more like me.

In my teen years, I tried my hand at poetry. It went badly. I am not a natural poet. My love of story has always trumped my love of words (if that makes any sense). Poetry has always seemed to me to be about the manipulation of language - sounds, rhyme, meter - things I just can't grasp. But as I said, I tried. I also wore a lot of flannel back then. What can I say? The 90s weren't kind.

Anyhow, in addition to trying to write poetry, I also tried to read it, primarily because I'd read "The Basketball Diaries" by Jim Carroll. My copy very helpfully came with a picture of a sweaty Leonardo DiCaprio on the cover (they made movie of it that year).  I was captivated by it (and I really thought he must look like Leo DiCaprio, because, you know, I was 17 and an idiot). This lead me to his poetry, which I make no claims to have understood, but thought I was being all deep for having read.

When I got to college, Jim Carroll came to do a poetry reading as part of the Poetry in the Round series put on by the English department (at the time, held in the very rectangular new auditorium in Kozlowski Hall (now Jubilee Hall, since Kozlowski was indited). Anyway, I was so excited (and still a bit of an idiot). And while I thought of him as my little poetry find - he turned out to be a poetry rock star.

No, literally, turns out, in addition to poetry, I found out thanks to the legion of 30 and 40 something men in the audience clutching their old vinyl albums, that he was also known as a rock star. It was one of the most crowded readings I'd ever attended. People clogged up the aisles. And when I went to have my book signed, I had to wait for like 20 minutes as the second person in line, because the guy in front of me (balding, approaching middle age) wouldn't stop drooling over him.

But by that point, I was trying to figure out why. For clearly, this man seemed to me closer to a tall Woody Allen than Leo DiCaprio. He seemed nervous, ungainly, and the poetry which I had thought would sound dramatic and phenomenal, was just... ehh. I was disappointed. Although in the end I was a little less of an idiot, and it did teach me something about the nature of being a fan of anything (temper expectations, primarily).

Anyhow, Jim Carroll died Friday, and I'm a little sad. He may not have been Leonardo DiCaprio, but for good or bad, he was one of my influences.
music.msn.com/music/article.aspx

Remember yesterday when I was all panicky about the possibility that something bad might happen? Well, 24 hours out, I was sure it was okay to call it a fluke.

And then I found my phone (which had been missing for a few days), and found out that sometime yesterday my dad got sent to the hospital with chest pains.

He's okay now, but.... yikes.

Note to self: if I have the "something bad" feeling, call home. I'd hate to think what might have happened.

All day I have felt like something bad is about to happen. I'm not sure what's bringing on this panic attack, but every since I got to work this morning I've had the "The sky is falling" feeling. It's been a little hard to breathe.

I woke up hungover. I didn't drink that much - I wasn't drunk at any point, but beer is not water. Had a had a glass of and taken some aspirin before bed, I probably wouldn't have woken up feeling like death, but I didn't so I did.

It's almost two o'clock and I haven't done much on my book today. Maybe I need to get out of my apartment. I can't seem to concentrate here.

Still, very close to being done. I just threw my main character into the middle of a riot. As soon as I throw her into a serious fire and have her pulled back out again, I'll be done.

Well, except for the editing. That's a slow process, given how badly I spell, and how often I use the wrong word.

But for all intents and purposes, I believe I'll have a draft at the end of the day.

If I stop messing around here and just do it.

So, I'm going to go have a Diet Coke and figure out how to do that.

Having decided that self-publishing was, once again, not the way to go in terms of what I want to do with the writing I've done, I've put up a a new website instead. Right now I don't have a whole lot of content, three stories (all of which I may have posted here in the past), and two novel chapters. I plan to add more content as I go back through my archives. My old site was about attracting attention as I looked for publication. Having learned much more about the publishing industry since that site was up, I realized I was never going to find that way. The whole purpose of this site is to share stories that I love that I happen to have written. It's about having a place for projects that might not otherwise find publicaiton. It's called "Stuff I Wrote That I Love."

So check it out if you like.

I usually wake up early. I don't necessarily get up when I wake up, but round about 5:30 every morning, regardless of how late or early I went to bed, how nasty the weather is, or how hungover I may be, I just wake up. Sometimes for few groggy minutes to look at the clock (and curse). Sometimes I'm up for good. This morning, I woke up at 4. The cursing that followed was some of the most colorful language I've ever used. Because today wasn't a curse and fall back asleep morning. Oh no. I was just awake.

For about an hour and half I tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable so I could sleep a little bit longer. Then I realized I was going to sprain something if I kept flopping about like a fish out of water, so I had better just get up and go to the gym.

Which is when I realized that I hadn't hung up my swimsuit from yesterday, but rather, left it in a plastic bag inside my gym bag.

Say it with me...ewwwwww.

So it was cardio this morning, which, I don't know, I must have been doing wrong because I HURT.

On the plus side, however, getting to the gym 20 minutes earlier meant I mostly avoided the chatty blonde lady who hasn't yet picked up that I'm not sociable before coffee, nor that I have no desire to speak to her while she's changing her clothes. So small victory.

I'm going to return to being a unpleasant now. I think I've got at least 2 more hours of being cranky in me before I return to regularly scheduled programming.

I walked home today. Honest to God, I don't know what possessed me. I hate to walk. Especially with the often aforementioned sweating issue. But, I was having dinner with some co-workers and I just announced, "I'm thinking of walking home." (I was not thinking that, the thought didn't occur to me until I said it). Anyway, the point is I totally did it.

Okay, I didn't make it all the way home, but in my defense, it was a lot farther taking the route I did then I counted on. But I'm pretty sure I walked about 3 miles, all the way from the University, along the river, over the Pike and through the woods (not really). I was about half-way to my house when I realized two things: I really wanted a Diet Coke, and I really needed a bus home. I was pretty far off my usual route, the river route taking me way away from my normal bus route. So, I made a small detour to a gas station that, joy of joys, had cold Diet Coke just waiting for me to purchase. Goal one down, I thought for a minute and realized, the bus route I was on intersected with my usual bus. I was home before the ice melted in my drink.

I don't think I'll be walking that way again. Mostly because the bikers along that route are rather rude. Just go around me, there's no need to yell at me as you do so. I get it, you're on the left. Sheesh.

I feel a little bad about being the smelly girl on two buses, but really, it was a necessity. My appologies to anyone who may have had to stand near me and my swampiness.