With almost a month at a half-hearted search for a literary agent, I decided to try a new approach. I've recently joined another group of critics and they are all about Karma! I get the impression that the Karma comes into play when you help your fellow writers, you in turn will be helped.
As one critic suggested, I completed a new exercise today to really get to the meat of my story and learn how to write an intriguing pitch. I pulled out an actual pad of paper and pen! I listed six questions and spent an hour answering them. It's funny - I had what I thought was the perfect pitch. But maybe, since I am the only one that knows the whole story, the pitch only made sense to me. This exercise forced me to write what would make sense to someone that does not know whodunit. After about four hours of reading my answers over and over, I have completed the revision.
I will post the pitch here and would love to know if it works. Does this pitch make you want to read more, does it make the characters/plot/story sound riveting, does it serve like a commercial that would make you drool for the greasy burger? These are the questions I want answered by an agent, fist-banging on the table and shouting, "Yes, yes! Please give me more!"
Wipe the drool from your chin, and let me know what you think. Thanks!
As Eth-Ann Drayer exchanges her title of Soccer Mom for Toy Store Owner, a forged link with her late Grandfather/surrogate Dad and a chance to reclaim her individuality seem like the whipped cream and cherry on top of her emotional sundae - until an erstwhile German friend of her Grandfather’s arrives, relocating from his minimum-security jail cell to the vacant apartment over Eth-Ann’s store.
A shy and bedraggled elderly man, the ex-convict easily blends in with the scenery, sharing cryptic hints of his devotion to Eth-Ann’s Grandfather, even gaining the valued trust of the family’s lawyer.
But when the discovery of a mysterious bag o’ cash leads to the German’s kidnapping, clues left behind give Eth-Ann reason to bet her secret recipe for Sweet Sassafras Tea that her Grandfather’s past leads down a murkier brook than he’d ever admitted.
Ignoring the call to assist the police could cost Eth-Ann a vital connection to explaining her Grandfather’s legacy, not to mention the respect of her family and her status as a hospitable Southerner.
But accepting the duty could cost her life.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Monday, July 5, 2010
I'd like you to meet . . . Rejection
Last week I travelled with my family to Florida to stay with my wonderful Aunt and Uncle. We spent the week lazily enjoying the Palm Beach farm by feeding animals, visiting the pond critters and lounging by the new pool. We did take a trip to a nearby beach, indulging in a sea-side lunch at Benny's by the Beach (no shark encounters, this year!).
During our stay I also completed my final, final edit of my manuscript.
Let me take a moment to pull in a deep breath, a sigh of relief and satisfaction.
Now, let me admit the flurry of butterflies swarming in my stomach. I have been researching and following a number of literary agents for a while, now. And I did it, I sent out my first query letters asking for representation. It really is kind of humiliating - in an industry code, I am begging for someone to like my pitch enough to ask for more, hopefully resulting in an eventual business deal. Out of hundreds of agents I have been told to expect rejection over and over and over again.
What kind of torture is this?! And I am asking for it?
I have received my first response - a form rejection. Although it was expected, and the rejection was very kind, it was still a little sad. This will likely be as much work as writing is. But, just like I've worked very hard to perfect my manuscript, I am willing to put in as much effort at finding an agent.
Wish me luck!
During our stay I also completed my final, final edit of my manuscript.
Let me take a moment to pull in a deep breath, a sigh of relief and satisfaction.
Now, let me admit the flurry of butterflies swarming in my stomach. I have been researching and following a number of literary agents for a while, now. And I did it, I sent out my first query letters asking for representation. It really is kind of humiliating - in an industry code, I am begging for someone to like my pitch enough to ask for more, hopefully resulting in an eventual business deal. Out of hundreds of agents I have been told to expect rejection over and over and over again.
What kind of torture is this?! And I am asking for it?
I have received my first response - a form rejection. Although it was expected, and the rejection was very kind, it was still a little sad. This will likely be as much work as writing is. But, just like I've worked very hard to perfect my manuscript, I am willing to put in as much effort at finding an agent.
Wish me luck!
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Anniversaries
My anniversary is in two days. Not just an anniversary. 16 years. And I wonder . . . how.
The man I've been married to for those 16 years planned a camping trip for the night of our anniversary. That is, until I asked if I was supposed to take myself out for dinner. Eyes bugging, slapping forehead, he asks, "That's this Friday? I didn't really forget, my Blackberry would have reminded me!" Like that is supposed to make it better.
Now someone is panicking. "What do you want for our anniversary?" he asks. So, problem number two - he hasn't thought this through. "Why don't you surprise me, get something that sybolizes our relationship," I suggest with a wicked grin he can't see through the phone. He sighs. I think I am enjoying the tease a little too much.
Should I let him off the hook? After all, Mother's Day was just last weekend. I did get a Mother's Day brunch (but I made the reservations) and a nice flower garden (well, a single flower which I requested through a text-message after I spent hours digging grass from the flower bed).
On one of our first few dates, my future hubby wooed me under the moon and stars and confessed that he was a hopeless romantic. After 16 years, I'd leave out the romantic part.
I have a request. He truly needs help. I am asking for suggestions on what he can get me for our anniversary. I look forward to sharing your ideas with him. :)
The man I've been married to for those 16 years planned a camping trip for the night of our anniversary. That is, until I asked if I was supposed to take myself out for dinner. Eyes bugging, slapping forehead, he asks, "That's this Friday? I didn't really forget, my Blackberry would have reminded me!" Like that is supposed to make it better.
Now someone is panicking. "What do you want for our anniversary?" he asks. So, problem number two - he hasn't thought this through. "Why don't you surprise me, get something that sybolizes our relationship," I suggest with a wicked grin he can't see through the phone. He sighs. I think I am enjoying the tease a little too much.
Should I let him off the hook? After all, Mother's Day was just last weekend. I did get a Mother's Day brunch (but I made the reservations) and a nice flower garden (well, a single flower which I requested through a text-message after I spent hours digging grass from the flower bed).
On one of our first few dates, my future hubby wooed me under the moon and stars and confessed that he was a hopeless romantic. After 16 years, I'd leave out the romantic part.
I have a request. He truly needs help. I am asking for suggestions on what he can get me for our anniversary. I look forward to sharing your ideas with him. :)
Friday, April 9, 2010
The Uphill Finish Line
It's amazing the momentum and speed I was able to gain while I worked through this last revision/edit of my manuscript. I flew like lightning, pumping out pages each day. Thrilled to make it to the final chapter, I knew that the final edit would soon be complete. I even gave myself a pre-pat on the back for finishing before April. Well, folks - I am still not finished. Another blow to the head, as I bang my face against the space bar on my keyboard, lucky if I can get through a paragraph each day.
This uphill climb has made me wonder about myself. The whole time I've worked on this story, I only wanted to finish knowing that I put the best words on paper. I have a reputation for not finishing things. Take, for example, my kitchen walls - stripped of the top layer of wallpaper; or the art in my living room that hangs in odd relation to the new furniture arrangement; or the boxes of half-finished projects lining the shelves of my basement. The book was the one thing I have felt determined to finish.
Now, as I sit and stare at the screen with less than 5 pages to the end, I have to wonder why it is so hard to finish.
Idea 1 - The ending is so important to get right. I am tying up a lot of loose ends, plus I am checking all of my facts to make sure that none of the loose ends are frayed. If the ending is great, the reader will be encouraged to read the next installment of adventures in this character's life.
Idea 2 - I am scared to finish, because that means my next step is to submit the collection of the last three+ years of blood/sweat/tears to publishing sharks for criticism.
Idea 3 (and the most likely cause) - It is a combination of Idea 1 and 2 that has the incline of the final stretch growing steeper.
Just know this: I am almost finished. I am so close I can taste it, and it is as sweet as a marshmallow Peep. But if you notice I seem more aloof than usual, remind me how far I've come and how much I have learned about myself. I may be the last runner on the course, but I'll finish, nonetheless.
This uphill climb has made me wonder about myself. The whole time I've worked on this story, I only wanted to finish knowing that I put the best words on paper. I have a reputation for not finishing things. Take, for example, my kitchen walls - stripped of the top layer of wallpaper; or the art in my living room that hangs in odd relation to the new furniture arrangement; or the boxes of half-finished projects lining the shelves of my basement. The book was the one thing I have felt determined to finish.
Now, as I sit and stare at the screen with less than 5 pages to the end, I have to wonder why it is so hard to finish.
Idea 1 - The ending is so important to get right. I am tying up a lot of loose ends, plus I am checking all of my facts to make sure that none of the loose ends are frayed. If the ending is great, the reader will be encouraged to read the next installment of adventures in this character's life.
Idea 2 - I am scared to finish, because that means my next step is to submit the collection of the last three+ years of blood/sweat/tears to publishing sharks for criticism.
Idea 3 (and the most likely cause) - It is a combination of Idea 1 and 2 that has the incline of the final stretch growing steeper.
Just know this: I am almost finished. I am so close I can taste it, and it is as sweet as a marshmallow Peep. But if you notice I seem more aloof than usual, remind me how far I've come and how much I have learned about myself. I may be the last runner on the course, but I'll finish, nonetheless.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
PANCAKE DAY!
This was the first message I received from my husband this morning. Sitting in a classroom, 400 miles away from home on his birthday, he thought of pancakes.
Years have passed since our first Pancake Day. Every Sunday morning we pull out the griddle, the Bisquick, the bowls, spoons and measuring cups. I measure, my daughter pours and everyone inhales the cozy aroma of pancakes. Occasionally we substitute cinnamon rolls or biscuits, but it is still called Pancake Day. I love this tradition.
I don't remember any traditions from my childhood. Lord bless my parents if they tried, but we were so scattered, separated, moving here and there - I truly don't believe they could. Maybe that is why it was so important to me to create new traditions for my family to enjoy. My kids won't let me forget Pancake Day. They remind me of the little things set in place at holidays and scold me if I try to change. As frustrating as it may seem at the time, I still smile, happy that they will remember these small moments, the stolen wishes of a Mom that hopes her children live happily ever after.
Even as I type, my daughter confesses new traditions in the making. She wants to write stories (like Mom), and maybe she wants to be a teacher when she grows up (like Dad). Curled up sideways in a wing chair, she scribbles the lines of her first great story, called Mystery Space (It was a foggy day in Finkletown, WA where six friends gathered at a club house.), complete with illustrations!
I am so glad that she sees how important writing is to me, and proud that she feels the same. Do you hear the clang! clang! clang!? Another link in our chain of family traditions has been forged.
Happy birthday, Terry! Happy Pancake Day! Miss you.
Years have passed since our first Pancake Day. Every Sunday morning we pull out the griddle, the Bisquick, the bowls, spoons and measuring cups. I measure, my daughter pours and everyone inhales the cozy aroma of pancakes. Occasionally we substitute cinnamon rolls or biscuits, but it is still called Pancake Day. I love this tradition.
I don't remember any traditions from my childhood. Lord bless my parents if they tried, but we were so scattered, separated, moving here and there - I truly don't believe they could. Maybe that is why it was so important to me to create new traditions for my family to enjoy. My kids won't let me forget Pancake Day. They remind me of the little things set in place at holidays and scold me if I try to change. As frustrating as it may seem at the time, I still smile, happy that they will remember these small moments, the stolen wishes of a Mom that hopes her children live happily ever after.
Even as I type, my daughter confesses new traditions in the making. She wants to write stories (like Mom), and maybe she wants to be a teacher when she grows up (like Dad). Curled up sideways in a wing chair, she scribbles the lines of her first great story, called Mystery Space (It was a foggy day in Finkletown, WA where six friends gathered at a club house.), complete with illustrations!
I am so glad that she sees how important writing is to me, and proud that she feels the same. Do you hear the clang! clang! clang!? Another link in our chain of family traditions has been forged.
Happy birthday, Terry! Happy Pancake Day! Miss you.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Why are there knife marks stabbed into the butter?
First and foremost, know that I love my children. I often write of inspirations, and my children must be at the top of that list. But winter months, trapped indoors and bundled against the freedom of SPACE, have caused me to wrinkle my brow at an exceptional number of huh's.
Although my novel should not be considered autobiographic, my protagonist and I have a lot in common. We are both mothers to one son and one daughter, we are both married to strong-willed men, and we both use a sense of humor to manage the aforementioned similarities. With this in mind, I have found myself making notes of those moments that cause me to wonder how to avoid checking myself in to the loony bin. These notes will likely become scenes, back stories or one-liners somewhere along the line of my story.
Here's a few teasers of the situations that may find a place within the 94,000+/- words of my novel:
Although my novel should not be considered autobiographic, my protagonist and I have a lot in common. We are both mothers to one son and one daughter, we are both married to strong-willed men, and we both use a sense of humor to manage the aforementioned similarities. With this in mind, I have found myself making notes of those moments that cause me to wonder how to avoid checking myself in to the loony bin. These notes will likely become scenes, back stories or one-liners somewhere along the line of my story.
Here's a few teasers of the situations that may find a place within the 94,000+/- words of my novel:
- Who dropped all these potato chip crumbs in the bathroom?
- Is Bailey in the bathtub, because there's water dripping from the ceiling again?
- Tell me again why you set your shoes on fire.
- What has happened to all the silverware?
- After it rained I found your socks/underwear in the front yard.
- Why is there a doll frozen in a block of ice in my freezer?
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Issues
Yes, I am having issues with blogging, today. And I don't mean a subscription. I could very well be focusing my attention toward actually accomplishing something, but instead I continue to search for meaningful information in a pile of poo the size of Arizona.
I get distracted so easily and it makes me . . . I don't know . . . agitated! I don't know who's idea it was to put a Next Blog button at the top of the page, but he should be barbecued with sliced pineapple and and brown sugar and served with a side of Why? ! Each time I hit Next Blog I get sucked further and further into the catacombs of boredom, only to keep delving deeper.
Who cares about your rabbit farm (which, sadly, only houses three rabbits)?
Next Blog
Oh, a cute family photo with Mom and Dad making out on the beach while little Billy watches.
Next Blog
Baby Pics (need I say more?)
Next Blog
Hmm, nice view of an Italian winery? This one has promise . . . wait, here's the music . . .
Next Blog
I don't even know the purpose of my own blog. Sort of like contemplating my navel, today. Well, here's my pitch for this post - I am writing a book, should be finished soon, gonna start the query process as soon as I can figure out that beast, y'all, please try and keep me motivated, tell all your friends to buy it when it comes out. Thanks.
I get distracted so easily and it makes me . . . I don't know . . . agitated! I don't know who's idea it was to put a Next Blog button at the top of the page, but he should be barbecued with sliced pineapple and and brown sugar and served with a side of Why? ! Each time I hit Next Blog I get sucked further and further into the catacombs of boredom, only to keep delving deeper.
Who cares about your rabbit farm (which, sadly, only houses three rabbits)?
Next Blog
Oh, a cute family photo with Mom and Dad making out on the beach while little Billy watches.
Next Blog
Baby Pics (need I say more?)
Next Blog
Hmm, nice view of an Italian winery? This one has promise . . . wait, here's the music . . .
Next Blog
I don't even know the purpose of my own blog. Sort of like contemplating my navel, today. Well, here's my pitch for this post - I am writing a book, should be finished soon, gonna start the query process as soon as I can figure out that beast, y'all, please try and keep me motivated, tell all your friends to buy it when it comes out. Thanks.
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