Works in Progress

Today is "Writing Assignments" day. Originally, it mean Evil Editor exercises. That was when I didn't really have any other writing projects on my active burners. In fact, last fall my active burners were suffering from a noticeable loss of fuel supply.

Since the end of last October, when I began blogging with a single blog, A Voice in the Wind, things have changed, and changed again. The presence of new friends to fill the void which had become far larger than I realized has thawed the flow of fuel to my heart and mind and stories are once again jumping about like the sunfish on Little Wabanna Lake at dusk.

Only I am not so foolish as to try writing them all right away. There were a couple of ideas I got and talked about writing too soon. One was The Power of Music, but I jumped the gun on that one. It needed to "cook" a bit more before taking it out. So right now I've only got two active writing assignments - self-assigned. One is the write the query for Traitor. I've got a rough copy right now. I'll rework it after I finish my final reading. The other is Quest, which is my sequel to Apprentice. That was begun yesterday, but I got nothing done on it today. Too many interruptions. (Spouse was home. Sump pump burned out and the basement began to flood. I've been sick for three days. Put together three boxes of books.)

Got some potentially good news today, too. Not ready to post about it, though. One may turn out to be nothing and the other could turn out to be a hundred times worse than good if things go bad. Isn't that just the way life is right now? All new endeavors have become high risk.

Cest La Vie.

It Begins

I never thought I would participate in a blog. Now I have this. It's like having a podium without an auditorium. I can stand behind it and express all kinds of supposed brilliance. Just what I need. It's the perfect audience, too. The hall is empty as I speak (write). I can say whatever I want and no one will be offended. And for those who may slip in - deliberately, or by accident (most likely) - they can do so without drawing attention. And they can slip away just as quietly. I will never know. Unless they leave a calling card (comment).

The truth is, I do not expect anyone to come here and listen to what I have to say, much less let me know that they have. I have the illusion of communication, and I owe it to a book agent who suggested I go to Evil Editor to learn why my query sucks. (It does, by the way. I just haven't learned why yet.) I do not reveal the agent because I do not know that would be appreciated, and I made a promise in my thank you to them I would not pester again.

It's a pity, too. For the agent's website is a happy one. It's filled with energy and fun. I felt it every time I visited, garnering the courage to send the ill-fated query letter. If my books are ever to be published, I would one other wish of mine be granted: I would like this agent to represent those books. Of all the agent websites I have visited, this is the only one that made me feel happy to do so. The pity is, I said I would not pester again. I made my submission. I was rejected. I got up to bat and struck out on three pitches. I'm not sure I belong in the major leagues. I couldn't even see the ball. I may as well of had my eyes closed. Pity.