Updating the blog a mere three days after the last post?
But here we are.
I would still like to hear your responses to the last post. I just wanted to share a little story with you, people of the internet, that has been spreading a grin across my face all day.
I warn you now, it is entirely about me. Turn back now if you were hoping for something far-reaching or directly applicable to your own lives. Or, if you feel like charging on, I promise to include a tooth-rottingly cute picture of my favorite animal at the end of the post.
Alright.
So, as I mentioned on the other 'You Can't Possibly Get Too Much Of Me' social media sites I'm on, the other day I sent out a bunch of queries for a children's story I wrote. The story would be a picture book, but I'm not interested in doing the pictures myself. I just envision the story going with a sort of sparkly, girly, cutesy art style that is...well, miles away from my own.
And the story took me about an hour to write, so I don't have the tooth-and-nail devotion to it that I do for, say, Ze Book.
Anyhow, I sent out the queries. I in no way expect to have seven agents battling for the right to represent Going to be a Unicorn, partially because my ego is not quite that out of control, and partially because I realize that very few people are actually interested in picture book texts right now. The market is just not leaning in that direction; if anything, most agents who represent picture books at all say (on their sites) that they're interested in author-illustrators. Or previously established authors.
But actually, actively querying and bracing myself for rejection seemed like a good idea. Because, hey, the worst thing that could happen is one agent reads the story, is repulsed, and tells his or her compatriots to avoid the name of J Larkin as though it were a disease you would never discuss in polite conversation. Which is not very likely. And once I am ready to start querying for Ze Book, I know there will be a lot of people who respond with 'Not my thing.' And I want to make sure I'm ready for that sting, beyond knowing how silly it would be to expect everyone to love what I've written.
This morning, at approximately stupid o'clock, my phone made that sound. The sound. The sound that is assigned to sound when my authorial email address is breached.
(The sound, for all those who are curious, can be heard in the clip below).
I rolled over, conked my head on the bedside shelf-thing, and maneuvered my way to the new email before I was fully awake.
Once I was awake, I read two words. The title of this blog post.
No thanks.
I shrugged, hit 'delete,' and rolled back over to catch a couple more hours of sleep. It wasn't until my face was pressed back into the pillow that I realized I'd just received my first rejection letter. Then I grinned.
I'm still grinning now, just thinking about it. I got rejected, and I was cool with it. Of course I care, and I think that if I felt absolute apathy then I'd be headed in the wrong direction. But there was no punch in the gut, no need to stiffen my upper lip, and no consoling necessary.
It's a baby step. Heck, it's not even that. It's more like the baby has finally managed to roll over on its own. Whoopdi-flippin'-do! But still, I feel a little ironic nudge coming from somewhere. I can handle rejection just fine, and get right back to the drawing board to work some more. Maybe I'm cut out for this writing thing after all!
Now, as promised...
But here we are.
I would still like to hear your responses to the last post. I just wanted to share a little story with you, people of the internet, that has been spreading a grin across my face all day.
I warn you now, it is entirely about me. Turn back now if you were hoping for something far-reaching or directly applicable to your own lives. Or, if you feel like charging on, I promise to include a tooth-rottingly cute picture of my favorite animal at the end of the post.
Alright.
So, as I mentioned on the other 'You Can't Possibly Get Too Much Of Me' social media sites I'm on, the other day I sent out a bunch of queries for a children's story I wrote. The story would be a picture book, but I'm not interested in doing the pictures myself. I just envision the story going with a sort of sparkly, girly, cutesy art style that is...well, miles away from my own.
Yeah, I don't...I don't draw like this. |
And the story took me about an hour to write, so I don't have the tooth-and-nail devotion to it that I do for, say, Ze Book.
Anyhow, I sent out the queries. I in no way expect to have seven agents battling for the right to represent Going to be a Unicorn, partially because my ego is not quite that out of control, and partially because I realize that very few people are actually interested in picture book texts right now. The market is just not leaning in that direction; if anything, most agents who represent picture books at all say (on their sites) that they're interested in author-illustrators. Or previously established authors.
But actually, actively querying and bracing myself for rejection seemed like a good idea. Because, hey, the worst thing that could happen is one agent reads the story, is repulsed, and tells his or her compatriots to avoid the name of J Larkin as though it were a disease you would never discuss in polite conversation. Which is not very likely. And once I am ready to start querying for Ze Book, I know there will be a lot of people who respond with 'Not my thing.' And I want to make sure I'm ready for that sting, beyond knowing how silly it would be to expect everyone to love what I've written.
This morning, at approximately stupid o'clock, my phone made that sound. The sound. The sound that is assigned to sound when my authorial email address is breached.
(The sound, for all those who are curious, can be heard in the clip below).
I rolled over, conked my head on the bedside shelf-thing, and maneuvered my way to the new email before I was fully awake.
Once I was awake, I read two words. The title of this blog post.
No thanks.
I shrugged, hit 'delete,' and rolled back over to catch a couple more hours of sleep. It wasn't until my face was pressed back into the pillow that I realized I'd just received my first rejection letter. Then I grinned.
I'm still grinning now, just thinking about it. I got rejected, and I was cool with it. Of course I care, and I think that if I felt absolute apathy then I'd be headed in the wrong direction. But there was no punch in the gut, no need to stiffen my upper lip, and no consoling necessary.
It's a baby step. Heck, it's not even that. It's more like the baby has finally managed to roll over on its own. Whoopdi-flippin'-do! But still, I feel a little ironic nudge coming from somewhere. I can handle rejection just fine, and get right back to the drawing board to work some more. Maybe I'm cut out for this writing thing after all!
Now, as promised...
D'AWWWWWW =D |
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TNXr5Alytg4
ReplyDeleteA little heavy-handed? Short answer: yes. Long answer: yeeeeeeessssss.
But done so flamboyantly it doesn't leave that nasty after-taste.
Your reply achieved two things:
ReplyDelete1. It made me grin
2. It made me want to rewatch Meet the Robinsons.
Both are good things. I thank you :)