Something other than books

I tried to make a cake yesterday. This happened.

Rejection

I am an incredibly lucky person. I met my husband when I was 18 years old. We've been together for more than 11 years now and in all that time we haven't ever broken up. Without delving into the intricacies of my personal life, prior to meeting my husband, there wasn't really anyone else. I had crushes, sure. Who doesn't. But I didn't do much to act on these. (Ok, yes, there was some embarrassing incidents of pseudo-stalking including one instance where I actually texted a boy pretending that I'd meant the text for someone else just so that he would text me back and we could hopefully start a conversation - *sigh/blush/ick*) So anyway, though I often felt rejected, a lot of that was to do with not really putting myself out there. I wanted them to notice me. I didn't really give them the opportunity to reject me as fully as they could have done. I wasn't ever truly heartbroken.

There have been other things in my life that left me feeling pretty blue. Family issues offer their own relationship trauma, so there's that. And then there was that time I applied for English with Creative Writing and got rejected by 3 out of the 6 universities I applied for, despite being a straight A student. That still stings. (And if you're really at a loose end and interested in laughing at the teenage angst version of me, please do stop by poets2000.com/katspoems/default1.htm for some insight into just how rejected I felt and also why I didn't get onto that creative writing course...If they'd had a special module specifically on awful angsty teenage crap I probably would have aced it!)

But generally I am a lucky person. I am loved. I have food and shelter, a good job and great friends. What I'm trying to tell you is that I feel ill-prepared for rejection. So that's probably why I have been putting off sending out my query letters. I had an incredibly strong fear of reverting to that angsty version of me.

Well sometimes, as they say, you have to feel the fear and do it anyway. So last week I sent out two queries. This week I will send out two more. I guess I'll keep going until I run out of people to send them to. Because I believe in my book. I believe in my story. I believe in myself.

*Fingers crossed someone else believes in all that too!*

I'm not sure that I'll keep you posted on all that. Just assume it's going on in the background and if I have any insights to share then I'll post them instead. Meanwhile, it's time to really start thinking about Book 2. Camp Nanowrimo's coming up...who's with me?

 

Rutsville, People's Republic of Rut Land

People, I am stuck in a rut.

I had one of those nights last night where I was so bored, but I could not find the motivation to do more than watch Thursday night TV, and I think we all know that is by no means the best TV night of the week.

I used to drive my mum insane when I was younger, going into her bedroom at ten o'clock at night saying "I'm bored!" over and over again, like even the act of saying it was something to do. She'd say, "You can't be bored, it's bedtime," but it was more like a build up of ennui throughout the day that culminates in the realisation that I have wasted the day and now it's night and going to bed is boring and not going to be bed is boring and I AM SOOO BORED.

15-odd years later and I am annoying my husband in exactly the same way. (He's such a lucky guy.)

I think the problem right now is I'm not writing and I'm not running. Those two things together make me more of a person. (Because, you know, a bored person is a boring person.)

I'm not writing because I am killing my brain endlessly researching query letters, agents and publishing. I know it's important that the query letter is, like the novel, the best it can possibly be. I know it's important to find the agent that is actually open to submissions and representing your genre. I know it's essential to make sure you follow the submission guidelines down to the letter. I know all this, but I can't help but think I may have left bits of my soul scattered over the various agency websites, twitter feeds and blogs I've been obsessing over. I haven't even sent a single query yet.

I'm not running because I've not been feeling 100% lately (cue the violins) and the last time I went was just before I got ill and I felt so sick after running that I was put off doing it again. But running (like waxing, incidentally) hurts less if you do it more often. With running I guess it's a question of fitness. With waxing, it's supposedly to do with the roots of the hair (ew), but I think it basically comes down to expectations - once you know how much it's going to hurt, you can prepare yourself for the pain. With writing, it's maybe a little of both.

Anyway, I've bored you guys enough with my boring tales of being bored. Time to go figure out what to do with my evening/life.