Well, there's you, of course. Look at you, all lively and filled with hope for the new year!
There's me, obviously. I know I vanished for over a month, and I'll make no excuses. I'd think of blogging and couldn't think of a single thing to say that wasn't already being said by everyone else. I hope you all had a great holiday season, and I hope your Monday didn't suck too awful bad.
In a few weeks is my one year blog anniversary. I think about the year I've had, and it's definitely been a rollercoaster of hope and dismay. I think I've achieved my happy place, though. I'm not defeated. I'd like to think of it as pacing myself. For so many months I worked tirelessly (or dragging ass at times) on finding an agent. I wrote two MSS. Started two more. I kept pushing myself, and you know what? I don't operate that well under pressure, especially pressure I put on myself. I had about ten agents ask for partials or fulls on my second MS, and I let myself get wrapped up in the hope of being published.
I've reached a point of patience I didn't know I had. I'll keep toiling, at my own pace on the stories I want to write. Sometimes I think I should write to the market. I've been told my stories are too far removed from mainstream that I'm shooting myself in the foot. I decided I'm okay with that. I'd rather 'make it' on a book that is 'me' than a book I wrote I didn't enjoy, and have to write more just like it or similar to it. I just need to find an agent that fits; one that gets my quirky humor and thinks my crazy stories will appeal to enough readers to make it worth their while.
Right? Maybe? I suspect this might be another lie to myself.
How 'bout you guys? Keeping it real or swimming in fantasy? Anyone land an agent while I sat on the couch this month, nursing my allergy to the internet?