White Noise

I hesitate to write about the anguish of writing because there is so much more important anguish in the world. Seriously, if we never publish a thing, it's not going to be the end of the universe; it won't even mean the collapse of our little universe. Dreams die hard, but their death is generally survivable.

Yet these doubts and fears are part of the process, and if I want to hold myself accountable on this journey, I suppose I need to acknowledge them. Of course, since I just had to rip out 2.5 pages, and I'm feeling kind of stuck, this may be the only writing I'm doing tonight, so there's that to account for too.

Sometimes the anxiety overwhelms the work. Sometimes the work overwhelms the anxiety. For me, the balancing act is constant, and the least upset to my state of mind can create a buzz that obscures the words. I am forever trying to find that inner peace that allows the ideas to rise through me and onto the page of their own accord. If I try to force it, it shows.

I'm not too thrilled with myself, either, when the writing doesn't go well. It tends to make me a little... snappish. Add to that ongoing and never-ending computer issues, and I often feel as if my head might explode. No matter how often I remind myself of the foolishness of getting upset over little things, I can never quite control my temper. And while the phrase "artistic temperament" has been used (by others) to excuse my outbursts, I don't want to be an arschloch to the people I care about in order to get creative. At this point, the trade-off is definitely NOT worth it.

Well... offer me a couple million for the book & movie rights, and then we'll see. :)

Pounding the (Electronic) Pavement

Quick update on The Pirate's Bride: wrote about 10 pages last week, ripped up 2 last night & today, so the page count is up to 174. Having a bit of trouble going forward, mostly because we have too much to say. This is not a bad thing; just have to get my mind organized.

Other news: had two "thanks-but-no-thanks" replies from agents since last week. At least they're quick and generally polite about responding, although one form letter/email left a lot to be desired in terms of both warmth (and more disturbingly) grammar. I think we're glad that agency wasn't interested...

Bless the Internet; it makes this process much easier. In one of our early forays in seeking representation for our screenplays, we created a form letter & inserts, including a response card. We got a lot of (no thanks) responses (not to mention one interested response that in the end we had to pass on because of the problem of retaining the book rights), but it took forever.

Now we can get kicked in the teeth daily, whenever we decide to check our email. Wahoo!

Nah, I don't mean it, not really... We wrote a good book that's worth reading. If you build it, they will come, right?

Bended, But Unbroken

Received the email I expected last night: we did not advance to the Semi-Finals for the Nicholl Fellowship.

Je suis desolee.

But I -- we -- will survive. It hurts, no doubt about it. I don't think we ever realize how much we are invested in something until it doesn't come to pass. I wanted this, and I try not to want very much... Except to have faith in the writing, to believe that we are good enough to do this professionally.

My faith is shaken but not lost.

Happy little planner that I am, I do not know what to do next. No doubt, however, something will come along.

I Am I Don Quixote

Received yet another very nice rejection letter, this time from Agent #3. The courtesy that the agents we've contacted have shown is exemplery, and we do appreciate that. I just wish we could get one of them to read the book. I think they would be pleasantly surprised, enough so that they would actually represent us. What the hell are we doing wrong?

I'd hate to think that it's all about who you know, because if it is, we're screwed.

Well... time to keep tilting at windmills.

Doong Sa... Do Not Be Afraid

If you're a John Irving fan, you may recognize that "Doong Sa" is Vietnamese for the second half of this post-title: "Do not be afraid". I assume John got it right; I never checked beause he used the phrase so effectively in A Prayer for Owen Meany that if he did get it wrong, I don't want to know.

Fear is a subject with which I'm intimately acquainted. Blame it on parents with overactive imaginations, or blame it on my own. Chalk it up to pride, of which I have a wide streak. Attribute it to the chaotic world in which we live, where fear is sometimes considered a gift.

The fears I wrestle with most these days have to do with failure. It's the what ifs -- you know them -- what if it's not good enough? What if we never get it sold? What if I'm just a two-bit hack who doesn't write as well as that [insert derogatory comment & expletive here] Diablo Cody? (I hated Juno. Hated it. On multiple levels. And that was before I knew that woman got her start writing a raunchy blog. Not that there's anything wrong with that, I guess, but writers don't get taken seriously as it is. She's not helping.)

But I started this blog to hold myself accountable, so it's time to face my fears. We sent out our first query letter in three years on Wednesday, January 21, 2009. I wasn't going to say anything here, because almost all query letters end in rejection and getting rejected publicly is supposed to be humiliating, right?

Forget that. Instead, I'm going to take advice from -- of all people -- Bob Dylan, who said: "...Experience teaches us that silence terrifies people the most."

So... no more silence. I'll post about the silence of the agents we contact, if that's all we hear from them. And I'll post about the form letters and the no thank yous and the please send some more followed by more silences if that's what we get. Why not?

Doong sa... do not be afraid.