Impatient, much?

I don't know why I'm being so impatient. So, I sent off a round of query letters last week to prospective agents but I've only heard from one. I know it takes time and this is their busiest season, but I've been bouncing my foot all week. I think it's because before it wasn't as big of a deal to wait, because I had a job. But right now, it just feels so... important. They have all the 'hand' in this situation. Boo.

I finished re-reading the first novel, made some changes and so on. Now, I'm re-reading the sequel. I know I need to look at the Reggie novel (the one about a girl who witnesses a murder) but one of my problems is when I try to do too much at once. I haven't even touched my very first completed novel, about a girl living in the Heath Street projects who's trying to protect her family. (Technically, that's not my first completed novel. I wrote one in high school, that I didn't finish until I was in college. The main premise was a blind date mix-up, but it was about a group of college friends. My friend Jenn had given me the idea and I named one of the characters after her. I remember trying to re-read that years after I had finished it and laughing. Man, it needs work. I started a sequel of that one, too) I should say my second novel was the first I tried querying. It's hard. I don't think many agents are keen on picking up... we'll call it urban fiction. I don't think they think it'll sell. Which may or may not be true. I read what sounds good, whether the characters are black, white, or wizards. But they have to think about marketing and I think the general consensus is that black people do not read. It'll be tough going for me if that is in fact the case, since my main characters always tend to be young, black females. I can't help it. I'm a young, black female. And I usually picture myself doing the actions. Boo, again.

Editing

I didn't turn my computer on all weekend, not on purpose, mind you. I was a working fool. But I did manage to work out a flow of events for the fourth book, which I'm currently writing, in the vampire series. It's coming along slowly. At work, I'm re-reading the first novel of the series. It boggles me. I enjoy the story. Why not others? I'm sure there are plenty of people who enjoy the books I read, of which at least this series is in the same vein. Maybe I'm too close to it, I tell myself. I just don't get it and I'm really not enjoying this process, especially at this point in my life. But I keep on writing anyways.

I received one rejection this weekend, from an agency in New Jersey, I think it was. I'm waiting to hear back from at least half of the nine or so agents I queried these past few days, before sending out another round.

Mornin'

It's early and I've already started. I've prepared three query letters that I'm sending off today (along with my Codman Square co-pay). Two to agencies in New York and one in California. They all have interests in science fiction, so I'm writing them about my vampire novel, which is about a girl who's dating a vampire who is threatened when a sexy hunter from Dallas comes to town. Here's hoping.

I was going to submit my other novel as well, but after having my friend read it, she confirmed that I needed to rework the beginning. As I had thought, it's a little rushed. I had had a different beginning before, but, after a brief meeting with an editor during Grub Street's Manuscript Mart last year, had decided to go a different route in order to get us right into the action, right into the suspense. My problem is that the story is about Reggie, the main character who witnesses a murder, so I either need to take out the parts that go into the killer's POV or revamp them so that we get more of a sense of him. Which of course puts a halt on querying the novel until I figure this shit out.

I'm also re-reading the vampire novel. It's been a while since I've worked on it. I had started it last summer. It's interesting revisting the characters from way back then. The reason it seems so long ago is that I've already started the fourth novel in the series. I've been very busy this year, writing-wise. :)

Revigorated.... I think

I will not let this get me down. I had a brief moment to grumble and curse, now it's time to get back on the horse. I've started another round of queries, sending out three through email already, and compiling a list to snail mail. I think I need more stamps.

More 'no's

So they said no over at Boston Lit, because there were no twist endings. Obviously, I had the wrong idea based on the fact that I didn't really get "twists" from some of the pieces I read before submitting. Oh, well. I'll keep it at that publicly.

I also got a no from an agency in New York for my vampire novel, so I'm really gritting my teeth this morning. I'm trying not to become discouraged though it's so easy to get that way.

"The Fox" and "Playtime"

I submitted these to the Boston Literary Magazine for their Quick Fiction section (250 words or less). Cross your fingers.

The Fox

You lay there, the early morning rays of sun catching in your hair, your eyes closed, serenity softening your features, and I think what a shame it all is. You have so much potential, but you’re hot-headed. Their words, not mine, after you botched the Collins job. By now, the poison should have worked its way through your respiratory system, clutching at your lungs with its sinewy fingers. You had no thoughts of deceit when I handed you the glass of merlot. You didn’t feel it make its furtive way into your bloodstream as we danced. All you saw was me when we removed our clothes. You stared into my eyes like you loved me, never suspecting a thing.

I guess that’s why they call me The Fox.

----

Playtime

I knew where he kept them—a shoebox tucked in the back corner of his closet. As soon as the car backed out of the driveway and disappeared around the corner, I rushed into my parents’ room. I pushed the clothes aside and carried the old Fila box to my room, locking the door behind me.

Familiar excitement crept along my spine. I opened the lid and pulled out the first magazine.

It was well-worn, the binding nearly non-existent after years of thumbing through, by my father and by me. I didn’t care. This one was my favorite. The woman, with her strawberry blonde hair and breasts set high on her chest, smirked seductively at me. I placed a hand on my own breast, small and round. I just got them last summer but they weren’t as ample as anyone would like. Jessie’s breasts were big like cantaloupes. The boys always stared.

“Don’t worry, Donna,” my mother would say. “Yours are perfect for you.”

I would slink away, not comforted in the least.

As my eyes grazed the naked women in the magazine, I became increasingly mesmerized. This was what men found attractive. Thin waists, blonde hair, shaved privates. My hair was brown, and I knew nothing about shaving, but I still stared, studying.

After a few more moments, I placed the magazines back in the box, and returned it to its hiding spot beside my father’s sneakers. Our shared secret. My mother would have a fit if she knew.

Welcome

So, here's my very first post. Stay tuned for more lovliness to come.