Focus, on

As per usual, I think about blogging, and then I do something else instead. I wish I could sit down with some of the personalities that do this sort of thing regularly and well, and pick their brain about how it is for them.

I mentioned some time ago that I was using a very simple organizational tool that laid out all my projects and let me tab notes about the progress of each. (I'm still brainstorming on the first act of the play, but the script for the comic is about ready to be put down. The short story is slipping, though, so I'll be attempting that soon.) I've continued to use it, even more so now that the novel is marching along. I'm almost 30k in, and it's transitioned from concepts floating around in space to story elements with relationships to each other, details in between. I have an idea of where it could actually go, and that feels pretty good. But one of the bullets lower down the priority list was concerning my networking and submissions. The idea that continues to glare is the simple thought that a person can write a million words, but unless someone is made aware of them, it won't much matter, in regards to reaching others. Not that I write all that much, but similarly to this blog, to reaching out, I tend to keep my hands inside the coaster and twiddle along by myself.

So, I finally submitted novels to agents for representation. It was a strange revelation, that I had two novels, completely unattached, ready for submission. Distinctly different, each several drafts into the process, Beta read and double spaced. My goal some time ago was to get some novels completed, and then make submissions. I know I'm not good at promoting myself. I would rather pay someone a percentage of all my earning potential to help me with something I'm that weak at and not at all interested in. I made that decision, and then went on to writing in the meantime. Evidently, years passed in the offing, and when I lifted my head from the grindstone, I had work to present. I was also happy to discover that there are new agents just like there are new authors, people who went to work for publishers fresh out of grad school, with the contacts and the networking savvy to do the job. All they lack is a stable of clients producing content they could sell. I read through a bunch of submission guidelines, and conformed a few packets. Penned query letters and sent them off. The next step is waiting. Always waiting.

In the mean time, I feel like I'm almost halfway through the current novel. There have been some surprises, and the shocks rattled my confidence at points. But I remember the dusty advice: get it all down before you realize it sucks. Writing is a neurotic activity. The other day I was operating a drywall lift in a friend's basement wondering aloud at why I had such a desire to write. "Because you're a writer," he said, then, "it needs to go toward you." He didn't really understand my thought, but then again neither did I. Neither do I. Also, while I wasn't paying attention, I went right over the threshold of the 10,000 hours where I am unlikely to deeply enjoy doing anything else with my life but this thing I've committed to.

Which is the brighter side, I think. I've had some challenging experiences, too, but I'm practicing this week, at acknowledging the bad parts only enough to mine out the potential for good that they carry.

Which is to say I'm still putting one foot in front of the other. Also still lots of stumbling. 

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