No power in the 'verse can stop the postal service!
I am officially sick and tired of rejection letters. I know, I’m in the wrong business if I’m going to let “the big no” from an agent bother me, but it does sting when you get four in one day!
And wouldn’t you know it, after I dissed the post office in last week’s rant they go and deliver some of my SASEs—faulty zip codes and all. Not all of them have come back, and I don’t think they all will, but some sharp-eyed postal employee caught a few of them and directed them my way. That adds to my “rejection overload,” I now have the pleasure of being rejected twice by the same agent!
The good news is one of the letters contained a request for pages, which I’ve dutifully printed and sent out. Not before rereading and re-editing the chapters of course. I’m anal…which reminds me of last week’s digression into my bottom and its trials and tribulations. I just can’t seem to get off my ass, can I? Explaining the ever-expanding girth of said bottom as well.
Okay, putting that topic behind me, I’ll get back to writing. I put aside my contemporary romance—boring—and picked up “…And the Angels Sing” again, my follow-up to the mystery, Polkadots & Moonbeams, so I’m back in WWII, writing about spies and interracial romance and tough guys who smoke and say “doll” a lot. Couldn’t be happier.
I’m also noodling with another mystery (I’ve been “noodling” with it for about ten years!). It’s a contemporary and I swear to follow every formula rule in the book if it means I might get it published. It’s called “Murder in Salem: The Curse of Hannah Barlow.” Here’s the pitch: The staff members of the local history museum are dropping like flies. Have they fallen prey to the curse of a woman hanged as a witch in Salem centuries ago—or is one of the museum’s employees on a vengeful rampage?
This story’s true to life given that I worked in a museum in Salem for six years and I contemplated murder of more than one of my coworkers at one time or another—something anyone who’s ever worked with other human beings can surely relate to.
Janet…no power in the ‘verse can stop me (but being buried under a multitude of rejections can certainly slow me down!)
And wouldn’t you know it, after I dissed the post office in last week’s rant they go and deliver some of my SASEs—faulty zip codes and all. Not all of them have come back, and I don’t think they all will, but some sharp-eyed postal employee caught a few of them and directed them my way. That adds to my “rejection overload,” I now have the pleasure of being rejected twice by the same agent!
The good news is one of the letters contained a request for pages, which I’ve dutifully printed and sent out. Not before rereading and re-editing the chapters of course. I’m anal…which reminds me of last week’s digression into my bottom and its trials and tribulations. I just can’t seem to get off my ass, can I? Explaining the ever-expanding girth of said bottom as well.
Okay, putting that topic behind me, I’ll get back to writing. I put aside my contemporary romance—boring—and picked up “…And the Angels Sing” again, my follow-up to the mystery, Polkadots & Moonbeams, so I’m back in WWII, writing about spies and interracial romance and tough guys who smoke and say “doll” a lot. Couldn’t be happier.
I’m also noodling with another mystery (I’ve been “noodling” with it for about ten years!). It’s a contemporary and I swear to follow every formula rule in the book if it means I might get it published. It’s called “Murder in Salem: The Curse of Hannah Barlow.” Here’s the pitch: The staff members of the local history museum are dropping like flies. Have they fallen prey to the curse of a woman hanged as a witch in Salem centuries ago—or is one of the museum’s employees on a vengeful rampage?
This story’s true to life given that I worked in a museum in Salem for six years and I contemplated murder of more than one of my coworkers at one time or another—something anyone who’s ever worked with other human beings can surely relate to.
Janet…no power in the ‘verse can stop me (but being buried under a multitude of rejections can certainly slow me down!)
posted by Janet at 8:39 PM
1 Comments:
Wow, Janet, another coincidence; a friend of mine worked at the Witch Museum in Salem for years, but this was about 20 years ago. You don't happen to know Liz Carleton, too, do you? :-)
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