Here it is Friday already and the queries I sent out last week haven't gotten a response.
Another query letter has failed. Or the story that took me a year to write isn't a story that any agent believes will sell in today's tight market. Yes, that market is tighter due to economic constraints. It's never been a good time to break into fiction, and now it's worse.
I'm buoyed by hope which was created by the positive responses I've gotten to the writing. So I can string words together.
Can I take those strings of words and apply them to a different time period in American history? How about a little murder and mayhem mixed in, will that make for a marketable story?
I've got to find out. I'm driven to find out.
Every chance I get, I write and the words come. It's almost a contest, to finish as quickly as possible, fly through editing, polish the manuscript, and send out query letters, and all to find out if I have the imagination to craft a novel that is marketable. If I already can write well enough, isn't the right plot the only thing that's been missing all along?
Am I more passionate about this current work in progress because I find the subject matter deeply engrossing on multiple levels? Or am I just determined to keep trying different material until I hit on something that's just what a publisher needs to plug a hole in their list?
Too stubborn to quit, or too stupid to see that it's hopeless. It's a true addiction, this writing game.