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Canada: Day Three

A video!:

Canada: Day Two

Video:



Things are going well. Eager to come home, though.

-Branden

Oh Canada

In Toronto on business. In order to ease the hours of free-time (read: boredom) I will blog. Because why shouldn't I?

First, a video:



Now, some pictures:

The view from my hotel room window, on the 31st floor. Buildings!


My lovely kitchenette, complete with a bunch of stuff I probably won't use.


The bed upon which I shall sleep. It came with feather pillows! I threw them behind the closet, because damn it I'm allergic!


This is where I'm sitting right now. But not in the picture. Check out the super high tech TV from 2001!

Not much to report. Had a good first day, felt like we got a good amount accomplished. I'm feeling a bit more confident in what I'm doing here. I miss my baby, though.

-Branden

Here's a cutie if I ever saw one. :-)

Testing...

This is Monday.

Query Letters and other things

I've received my second form rejection for my query letter, so it's time to revise it. I don't know, I guess I thought it must be pretty good, since the first time I cast my line in I got a bite (a big bite, at that). But tightening it won't hurt. And anyway, I need to focus my search a little better. I've gone through the 2009 Writers Market and marked all the agents that appear to represent science fiction, which is the genre that LEGION fits in best -- though I don't even know if it's the sort of "science fiction" that agents looking for "science fiction" would want. Conundrum!

Progressing at a decent pace into a new novel, which doesn't have much of a name yet. I'm calling it NEPHILIM for now, but I don't think that's going to be the name. Maybe something more vague like "The Child of Renown." I dunno. Titling is the least of my concerns at this point. Getting letters onto the page (and making them sound purty) is higher priority.

Along those lines, I wish to give myself a tentative pat on the back, the sort you might give to a mourning coworker you regularly pass in the hall and you're PRETTY SURE works in Accounting. But not for anything sad: I've been writing regularly again. In fact, I DO find myself mourning, but only when I'm unable to sit at the computer. I don't know exactly where the story is going (terrifying) but I have some ideas. It's a matter now of making it compelling.

Supernatural Thriller? Yeah. At least I don't need to think too hard about the genre for this one.

Reject

Getting a rejection letter is kind of a weird thing for me. In a way, it's somebody saying, "Hey, appreciate you sending me your stuff, but I can't sell this. Sorry." On a conscious level, I understand that this is a subjective business. Not everyone will like my stories. Some people might even hate them. So in a way the agent search is preparing me for that inevitability, that first negative review that will keep me up at night, wondering "Why didn't what's-his-name like my book? What is what's-his-name's problem? What is what's-his-name's name?" Each agent that says, "Not for me," is just an agent doing me a favor. If somebody's "just not that into" my book (ugh), then why would I want them as my mouthpiece, the salesperson responsible for getting me the best deal? I wouldn't.

That's on the conscious level.

Deeper than that, I'm thinking "That's it, I'm a talentless hack, I've wasted my time, so freaking much time it's unbelievable, and I'm not going to make it."

I know that this industry is hard in order to weed out the weak. Persistence is key, or so I've been told. And I've heard the inspiring stories, of famous authors that were rejected by every agent, every publisher, everyone in the known universe before their work finally broke into the mainstream. But am I really supposed to be inspired by that? Should I look forward to rejection?

Because that part isn't much fun.

Currently reading The Four Last Things by Andrew Taylor. It's part of a trilogy of connected books that don't directly relate--which caught my attention since that's sort of what I'm planning. I'm interested to see how Mr. Taylor does it.

The only sign of life in my cubicle today...

The Waiting Game

The novel has been sent. The agent acknowledged receipt. So now we wait.

If any other writers read this blog, tell me: What do you do during these waiting periods? Do you keep working on polishing up the novel (it's been polished a million times, but it could always use a little more)? Do you work on another novel? A short story? Do you twiddle?

I suppose I shall twiddle for now. Better yet, I'll work, since I'm at work and that's where work is done.

Crunch Time

I had submitted a query letter to an agency to see if they might be interested in my novel. They were, insofar as they wanted to see the first 30 pages or so. I sent those off earlier this month and sat back, expecting a wait of at least a month if not two.

She emailed me back last night, saying she enjoyed my sample pages. She wants the full manuscript.

Now, this is good news. If nothing else, this is further than I've gotten in the past. However, I'm making my final edits now, and thought I'd have enough time to do so before any manuscripts were requested. So now I'll be spending my weekend, locked away from the world, staring at my computer and polishing the whole thing up one last time. Fortunately, I've already made line edits on a printed copy, so all I have to do is make the Word copy reflect those changes.

Oh, also, I had Red Robin for the first time last night. I completely concur with the chorus which hums in the commercial. It is very hummm. So good.

(Re)writing

I cannot count how many times I've gone over my manuscript. I mean, I could literally count the number of times, if I had recorded the number. But I didn't. So I can't.

At some point, I became sick and tired of reading it. In fact, as the first 30-50 pages are generally what agents want to see before they ask to see a full manuscript, I've spent an inordinate amount of time going over those, and over those, and over those. I guess the goal is to get the thing published, so I never have to read it again.

Not to say that the story doesn't excite me. It does. Every now and then, driving by myself, I'll go over the story in my mind and think, "Hey, that's pretty okay. Me like."

But I feel like the writing process is never done until someone takes the thing away from you. I could edit and edit and edit, because nothing will ever look quite right to me. That's why I have a hard time reading any of the stories I have in print. They are unchangeable. Every awkward phrasing has been tattooed to the page.

I've got some momentum, as I've reached the point where I just want to be a writer. Jobs are fine, but I want a career, and for better or worse I've picked a career that has very limited opportunity for success.

Here's hoping.

You should never end a sentence with a preposition at.

Thanks to Tina Fey, et al, for that line. Oh man. I love 30 Rock.

I received a request from an agent to see the first 30 pages or so of my novel, Legion. So, I sent it to her.

Now the waiting begins.

That sounds more ominous than it actually is. I don't know if it will be her thing or not. Either way, it's only one agency. And if nothing else, it's a symbolic gesture: I'm moving forward. Ish.