The new and revised query is proving to be as ineffective as the old model.
Four queries went out, and two rejections came back in the span of three weeks. Not sure if Kim Lionetti of BookEnds or Margot Meyers of Turning Point are ever going to respond at all, but after a month, it's sure to be a rejection if they do send the SASE back.
A tweaked query went out two weeks later, seven copies this time. Five rejections garnered to date, which makes it sound like the tweaked query is worse than the original. I prefer to think that the literary agents who received it are particularly well organized and quick to respond.
With twenty-five short story submissions still lingering, I'm having one of those weeks of discouragement, like a manic depressive on a down turn. A couple of journals say that they will be making their decisions in October, which it just happens to be lately, and they still have some of my stories under consideration. Hard not to obsessively check the e-mail inbox several times a day, when not lingering around the mailbox and scanning the horizon for the mail carrier.
The manic phase creeps in, the hope of getting a credential so that I can revise the query yet again. This time it will be a line added in the closing paragraph, to trumpet my ability to get published in a literary journal, so won't you take a look at the novel, dear agent, because an editor thinks I can indeed write decent prose. The slight tinge of hope, the sure ripple of failure, up and down from one day to the next.
Is it any wonder that writers become alcoholics?
5 comments:
No wonder that writers become alcoholics?
Once in a while, when I get those rejection letters--and getting them from agents, as opposed to publishers, does HURT--I keep wondering what would've happened if Joseph Goebels would not have gotten all those rejection letters for his novels?
A point for consideration...
Sure and the man could write some far-fetched fiction that a lot of people actually believed to be the truth.
And what a different world this would be if Adolph Hitler had been a bit more accomplished as a painter....is this the fate of the frustrated artist who doesn't take solace in drink?
I need a whiskey.
Oh, and did I ever tell you that my dream is to become the generalissimo of a small South American country? Or of California? Which ever happens first?
Where is THAT whiskey?!!!!!
I thought California was....no, that's right, it's not part of Mexico anymore.
A twist of lemon, a couple of cloves and a splash of hot water. Ahhh. Hot whiskey to warm the bones and melt away the rejection letters.
Ah, that sounds good! And pass the chocolate.
AR
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