So, yesterday was Father’s Day, which put me in a foul mood because my dad passed away in 2007. Granted, I didn’t get in as foul a mood as I get around Christmas. Yes. I’m The Grinch. Boris Karloff stands outside my house and sings, “You’re a mean one, Heather Curley.”
Today was not much better, thanks to mass chaos at work. And, while I normally thrive in Mass Chaos, I wasn’t having it today.
And then, I got home to find three rejections on my query. Three. In a row.
In no particular order, here are the thoughts that crossed my mind:
1. I suck
2. My writing sucks
3. This must be why Hemingway drank
4. Screw dinner and pass me the ice cream
5. I’m never writing again.
The last one obviously didn’t happen because, well, here we are.
So, in lieu of that, I shredded half a chicken. By hand.
I didn’t date much in high school or college. Okay. I didn’t date at all, thanks to an awkward stage that lasted from age 11 to approximately age 18. I got married at 20. But, I feel like this is all the rejection I missed out on while I was wandering through my high school years. “It’s not you. It’s me.” But it’s phrased as, “It’s not your book. I’m just not right for your book.”
Which, roughly translated, is still, “It’s not you. It’s me.”
And don’t get me wrong, I’m okay with that. If an agent doesn’t believe in my book, then how will they sell it? They won’t. Simple. It’s just, ugh, this process is brutal.
I’m hoping (?) it’s not my writing. I’m assuming it’s not. I do have two fulls out there under consideration. So there’s that. And I know the whole process is long and brutal and I have to accept that. Fine.
But I’m going to be honest. I really did enjoy labor more. Caveat: I was in labor for seven hours from start to finish with The Toddler and four with The Baby. I show up at the hospital to watch TV, pop out a kid, and get my lunch tray.
While I was shredding the chicken, I came to the conclusion my query letter might need tweaked. I guess I’ll do that tonight and send it out again. Because…I don’t really want to give up. As a general rule of thumb, I’m usually willing to give up. But I believe in my book too much. Maybe not so much today. But normally.
And, in completely unrelated news, I watched most of Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. Or Slayer. Whatever, anyway, I…yeah, I just couldn’t do it. I chose sleep instead. The movie lost me when the vampire threw a horse at Abraham Lincoln and Abraham Lincoln was not even fazed. I can be onboard with disbelief only so far. Then I start to say things like, “Well, I don’t know, the plot line from The Walking Dead could totally happen.”
I’ll be happy when this week is over.