From the ashes...
Wow...it has been a little bit since I have posted anything here...sorry about that.
Well, after a long discussion with my brother, I have pulled myself back from the brink of oblivion (the wonderfully descriptive term I use to describe my random bouts of soul searching) and have decided to focus once again on getting my novel published.
Now I know that this might come as a surprise for some of you...but I am trying to publish a novel. Somehow I feel that a recap is needed...so get ready for a history lesson ;)
It all started back in January of 2004 when I was on my second semester back attending a local university (which I graduated from last July). I was completely swamped with school work and bogged down with projects at my job. I was starting to loose my grip on things. My grades started to fall and I became very irritable. I know that I was horrible to be around...but I just couldn't snap out of it. (Looking back at it the fact that I was only getting an hour or so of sleep really didn't help matters.)
In one of the conversations I had with people around me, my ex-wife was one of them, I made some comment about how horrible it is that movies adapted from novels never seem to do the stories justice. Somehow that was turned into a challenge and someone, I am really not clear about who, said that they didn't think that I would be able to write a novel. I know this sounds weird, but welcome to a day in the life of me. The only thing that is not normal about this is the fact that I have little to no idea who challenged me, but that I blame on sleep deprivation.
So, I undertook writing the novel in between studying and working on projects. This was a "in my spare time" project and came to be a "I need a break from everything else" project. All I know is that it worked. By working on this in between studying and working I managed to get my grades up and my work projects finished. I also managed to finish writing the novel by time I graduated.
So that is where it stands. The novel is written. It has been edited once and is in the process of a re-edit. All that is left is for me to write a query letter and send it to a literary agent or two as I start the process of trying to get my book published.
This leads us to why I haven't started this phase of the process yet. I could come up with a great story about how I was waiting for someone to finish editing it one last time or even something witty like the challenge was to write it not to publish it, but both of those reasons (although they might seem valid) are lies.
The real reason is that I was afraid. Yeah, it all boils down to that. I was afraid. Questions like: What if I couldn't get anyone to read it? What if all of the people that critiqued it for me lied? What if it gets published and it flops? What if it is a HUGE success and I am expected to write a sequel? What if...?
It wasn't really until my brother called me tonight out of the blue and spoke with me that that all changed. You see, although we never really saw much from the same point of view when we were younger, he has his moments of clarity that are simply astounding and while we were on the phone my thoughts settled and a few little things sprang forward to my attention.
Now instead of trying to recreate the conversation, I will spare you the little details and just list what the things were. So here they are in the order that I recalled them...
1) My dad read the book and loved it. Now the book is a fantasy novel and my dad doesn't really read fantasy. So the fact that he loved it means that it might have been good. (Not to mention that I hadn't given it to him. I gave it to my sister and my dad snatched it from her and wouldn't let anyone read it until he was done with it.)
2) My mom read it and loved it. Again my mom does not read fantasy either. The only real criticism that she had was that there were elves in it. (To me that isn't a bad thing in a fantasy book.)
3) I was going through a bunch of papers that my parents saved from when I was a kid and I stumbled upon a story I had written when I was 10. It was a fairly complex story, especially for a ten year old to have come up with, and it was mostly well written. It was ten pages long hand written ion some of the most atrocious cursive I have seen since I last wrote anything. This story was important because evidentially I liked to write stories even when I was younger.
4) My brother mentioned something about not caring about what others think. I think was what brought me to my senses and helped motivate me again. His comment was not in reference to my story, but that makes no difference. That comment when put into the context of my story eliminates at least half of the questions that plagued me and the questions that it didn't eliminate it put into perspective.
So...there it is. Tonight I am going to finish my query letter and start my search for a literary agent.
Wish me luck.
Well, after a long discussion with my brother, I have pulled myself back from the brink of oblivion (the wonderfully descriptive term I use to describe my random bouts of soul searching) and have decided to focus once again on getting my novel published.
Now I know that this might come as a surprise for some of you...but I am trying to publish a novel. Somehow I feel that a recap is needed...so get ready for a history lesson ;)
It all started back in January of 2004 when I was on my second semester back attending a local university (which I graduated from last July). I was completely swamped with school work and bogged down with projects at my job. I was starting to loose my grip on things. My grades started to fall and I became very irritable. I know that I was horrible to be around...but I just couldn't snap out of it. (Looking back at it the fact that I was only getting an hour or so of sleep really didn't help matters.)
In one of the conversations I had with people around me, my ex-wife was one of them, I made some comment about how horrible it is that movies adapted from novels never seem to do the stories justice. Somehow that was turned into a challenge and someone, I am really not clear about who, said that they didn't think that I would be able to write a novel. I know this sounds weird, but welcome to a day in the life of me. The only thing that is not normal about this is the fact that I have little to no idea who challenged me, but that I blame on sleep deprivation.
So, I undertook writing the novel in between studying and working on projects. This was a "in my spare time" project and came to be a "I need a break from everything else" project. All I know is that it worked. By working on this in between studying and working I managed to get my grades up and my work projects finished. I also managed to finish writing the novel by time I graduated.
So that is where it stands. The novel is written. It has been edited once and is in the process of a re-edit. All that is left is for me to write a query letter and send it to a literary agent or two as I start the process of trying to get my book published.
This leads us to why I haven't started this phase of the process yet. I could come up with a great story about how I was waiting for someone to finish editing it one last time or even something witty like the challenge was to write it not to publish it, but both of those reasons (although they might seem valid) are lies.
The real reason is that I was afraid. Yeah, it all boils down to that. I was afraid. Questions like: What if I couldn't get anyone to read it? What if all of the people that critiqued it for me lied? What if it gets published and it flops? What if it is a HUGE success and I am expected to write a sequel? What if...?
It wasn't really until my brother called me tonight out of the blue and spoke with me that that all changed. You see, although we never really saw much from the same point of view when we were younger, he has his moments of clarity that are simply astounding and while we were on the phone my thoughts settled and a few little things sprang forward to my attention.
Now instead of trying to recreate the conversation, I will spare you the little details and just list what the things were. So here they are in the order that I recalled them...
1) My dad read the book and loved it. Now the book is a fantasy novel and my dad doesn't really read fantasy. So the fact that he loved it means that it might have been good. (Not to mention that I hadn't given it to him. I gave it to my sister and my dad snatched it from her and wouldn't let anyone read it until he was done with it.)
2) My mom read it and loved it. Again my mom does not read fantasy either. The only real criticism that she had was that there were elves in it. (To me that isn't a bad thing in a fantasy book.)
3) I was going through a bunch of papers that my parents saved from when I was a kid and I stumbled upon a story I had written when I was 10. It was a fairly complex story, especially for a ten year old to have come up with, and it was mostly well written. It was ten pages long hand written ion some of the most atrocious cursive I have seen since I last wrote anything. This story was important because evidentially I liked to write stories even when I was younger.
4) My brother mentioned something about not caring about what others think. I think was what brought me to my senses and helped motivate me again. His comment was not in reference to my story, but that makes no difference. That comment when put into the context of my story eliminates at least half of the questions that plagued me and the questions that it didn't eliminate it put into perspective.
So...there it is. Tonight I am going to finish my query letter and start my search for a literary agent.
Wish me luck.
posted by darkjag at
1:52 AM
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