Should
Astonishingly, I’ve done no “real” writing this week (lots of “research” which counts towards my quota, but is a bit dodgy eg. watching “Top Gear” to learn about cars). I suspect the last time this happened for a whole week was 2004.
Still not actually writing right now. . . blogging is different. (Gandalf is now eating normally, by the way.) To me, blogging isn’t “real” writing, because it’s too much fun and the standard is sooo much lower.
I read each blog entry about three times to make sure it makes sense and to check spelling. I read each word of every piece of “real” writing between seven and thirty times, and stop far more often to make many more changes (which I then read over up to five times before moving on).
Writing is a dumb job! Why am I doing this?
I think I just reached enlightenment.
And. . . time to go do some real writing, I think.
Gandalf ate something!
Thirty seconds ago, Gandalf managed to eat a food pellet. . . his first this week.
(Jesus roasting breakfast by the lakeside, anyone?)
Pretty sure this makes Gandalf the most Messianic fish ever.
I also now think he will actually recover. Which is great, because he’s an unusually good-natured fish. And yes, I know that’s an odd thing to say. It’s still true.
Thus far, the new fish plant is not dead. It’s possible my water is no longer poisonous to life.
The “Farting my ABCs” publisher has not responded. It’s like I’m psychic. Here are some translations of publisher speak (for educational reasons):
Publisher talk: “I’ll get right back to you on that.”
Translation: “Call me again in three months.”
Publisher talk: “We’re very excited about your manuscript.”
Translation: “Since you ruined our expectations by using correct spelling, we will punish you by waiting another six months to reject you.”
Publisher talk: “I know this must be difficult for you.”
Translation: “Get used to it.”
This is a picture of “Stormhunter” which has been at a publisher (a different one; they all mean so well and all fail so badly) for eleven months and seventeen days.
C’mon, make a new record! You’re so close! (The current record is eleven months and twenty-nine days, at the “Farting my ABCs” possible-publisher, but it was divided into two visits whereas “Stormhunter” was sent in full from the beginning.)
Join me
I just cracked and called the “Farting My ABCs” possible-publisher to check it hadn’t turned into coal in their slush pile (it’s been seven and a half months, and this was my first call). They said, “Oh. Our records say we replied to that some time ago. I’ll get back to you.”
This means it’s probably already rejected. But I thought I’d share this update with y’all so you can share the agonising wait. It could be as long as two weeks, but in theory I’ll know the fate of “Farting My ABCs” later today. I’ll write a post as soon as I know.
Cunning Plans
I’ve now had a headache for two weeks, and intestinal parasites since January. Oh, and insanity for six years. The world isn’t looking good.
I’m about to launch into a wild adventure on my other blog (since its current form – as handmaid to the twitter stories, with ever-decreasing relevance, is starting to bore me), by doing SOMETHING interesting every day (except Fridays, when it’ll still have the “current story so far” plus anything actually relevant to that tale).
Some of the list includes:
-Playing a play-dough role-playing game (make your own monster, then fight everyone else).
-Making a sandcastle.
-Eating a whole meal of one colour.
-Going to Catholic Mass
-Various top secret activities to be slowly revealed.
And EVERYTHING – absolutely EVERYTHING – from this list:
http://steffmetal.com/101-ways-to-cheer-yourself-up/
(which my partner isn’t allowed to read yet).
If you can think of something life-affirming (and/or odd) for me to do, put it in the comments and I’ll almost certainly do it. Especially if I can work out a way to do it for free.
This all officially starts THIS FRIDAY. Massive mood swings, here I come!
Writing
It’s the 22nd today, which means it’s been exactly seven months since I sent “Farting my ABCs” to the publisher I wrote it for. It’s for a specific series which I wrote for (rather unsuccessfully) once before. The first book I wrote for this series was rejected after three months (too fantastical, I think – it later became “The Monster Apprentice”, and a great deal longer). On another occasion, this publisher took eight months to reply to just the first three chapters of a normal book. But usually they take six months for each phase.
I originally predicted they’d take seven months for “Farting my ABCs”.
The other book I’m waiting for has taken just under eleven months so far – very much a new record (different publisher). But at least I know for certain it’s progressed.
My NaNo novel (which I wrote in two weeks) is beginning to shape up under my fingers. I really like the prologue and first chapter, and I think they’re of publishable quality (which in practical terms means they’re ready to be read by people other than me). So THIS draft is the “quasi-publishable” draft, which is very exciting. After this I’ll have at least two people read it all the way through and give comments, then I’ll find a professional editor to do the same thing. And THEN I’ll make the final edits and send it out into the world. Probably about four months from now, assuming people reply promptly. Then there’ll be another six to twelve month wait until the first reply comes in.
Writing is dumb. Don’t do it.
Resolution?
My challenge, should I choose to stop messing about and do it, is to finish draft #3 of my NaNo novel (aka the empath book, aka “Justice is Blind”) today.
It’s truly weird, but the faster I write a book the less major structural editing it seems to need. This one is especially odd since it definitely has no plot. . . not exactly. Now I finally know what it’s like to write action.
The plot is pretty much: Run! Fight! Arg! Fight again! Oh no! Time for a slightly different fight! Biff! Pow! New more bigger-er fight! The End.
Not sure if it’s up there with the fart book, but it’s pretty darn good.
Ae Good Dae
Today was a great day. I’ve barely written at all this week (it’s been a little too exciting for my liking), but I found myself seated in front of the computer within an hour of waking up – and I kept writing for four hours (coming perilously close to finishing the third draft of my NaNo novel). Plus it was what I call “real” writing – as opposed to finding markets, or researching. Yay!
I also vacuumed the whole house, brushed the cat, took out the rubbish (and the recycling, and the bin), studied advanced mathematics, organised bills, and ate a whole lot of candy.
At about that point I could feel myself starting to freak out over the student (of maths) that I had this afternoon (for subjects that I’m woefully unqualified to teach – which they know, but don’t mind). I had a lie down, and tried to stay calm. That took two hours.
On the edge of tears, I went to work (she has a maths test tomorrow). Other than the hours of crippling fear, this was all good news. The family always pays me cash on the day, and this was a much-needed extra lesson. Despite how “exact” (shall we say) our finances are for the next 48 hours, I DID go and get petrol on the way, instead of running out somewhere along the 25-minute route.
The maths lesson went astonishingly well, and also much longer than expected. So I was able to (a) put the petrol money back in the bank ready for tomorrow’s bill, (b) buy nice food for dinner, (c) buy me more chocolate.
And I was still home in plenty of time to watch “V”, “The Good Wife”, “House”, “Bones” and “Castle”. Mmmm. . . Sunday TV.
I also didn’t wake up feeling sick this morning. That was pretty darn exciting. Wacky side effect of the day: green urine.
Blurk
I’ve seen the doctor again, and they want to retest me for Giardia (the first test was inconclusive). I don’t have to take any more Flagyl pills (since I’m allergic) but I was meant to go straight onto Imodium and anti-nausea pills (which I didn’t, because the habit of putting off any unexpected expense is too strong – I’ll get some tomorrow).
I improved overall since I stopped taking Flagyl, but I’ve now regressed to being roughly as sick as I was before going to the doctor (plus the still-fading allergic side effects). Sidebar: I also have small sores at the edges of my mouth, which usually indicates malnutrition. I remember I had them in early February, too. My diet’s not THAT bad.
Today is the 11th, which means it’s exactly a month since I was told the children’s deparment heads are discussing “Stormhunter”. I estimate they’ll reply 1-2 months from now. (Last time this happened it took two weeks, but that was a different company.)
I had another look at my records and realised that the company (a different one to the above two) that has “Farting my ABCs” once took eight months to reply to just the first three chapters of a book of mine. If they take the same amount of time on this book, they’ll reply in late April.
I think the main reasons creative types are so much more prone to mental illness are:
1. They’re alone a lot.
2. They don’t have regular pay.
3. They know their pay depends on luck more than it should.
I can combat this by seeing friends, by living off my husband’s regular-as-clockwork wage, and by giving myself as many solid and reliable things to look forward to as possible. (Instead of the airy-fairy waiting for publishers, which will probably end in tears anyway.) Tomorrow I’m going to see a movie, and on Saturday me and mine are going out to dinner for a friend’s birthday party. So yay for that.
And I’ll buy chocolate with my medicine tomorrow. A shovel-full of sugar makes the medicine go down.
Snot Monster
Today marks the halfway point. Whatever happens, I’ll have chocolate next Monday.
I did a reasonably honest weigh-in today and got 78.8 kilos. If tomorrow is as bad, I’ll know something’s gone horribly wrong (probably my contraceptive medication, which I’ve been on for four months, would be the baddie). As a matter of honour, I’ll still stay off chocolate until March (official chocolate, anyway – I might get into the Weight Watchers chocolate milk mix).
The title refers to my constant crying.
Today is the 22nd of February, which means I sent “Farting My ABCs” to its chosen publisher exactly six months ago. The publisher’s website says it takes four months to make its replies, but I know from experience that it takes six months for each stage (that is, six months to read the first three chapters and request the rest, then six months to read the full book). “Farting My ABCs” is so short I sent the whole thing (which they specifically say is the right thing to do) so it’s possible it’ll take longer for that reason. Also I know the publisher is especially swamped at present (plus, the recent six months includes the quagmire that is Christmas time). So I estimate they’ll reply in about another month.
I estimate the other publisher I’m waiting on (the one where the book, “Stormhunter”, is getting discussed by the two heads of the appropriate department) will take another two months from now.
Books
At the close of last year I had three good chances for publication:
1. “Stormhunter”, which was resent to a publisher (who already liked it) after a crucial piece of editing.
2. “Farting My ABCs” sent to the publisher it was designed for.
3. Realist novel sent to a small publisher (since I usually just hit the super big publishers, who get hundreds of unsolicited manuscripts each week).
NB These are three different publishers.
#3 has since received a personalised rejection, #1 is getting discussed between the top and second-top people in the young adult department (the company has had the full manuscript for almost ten months now), and #2 will probably garner a reply next month (they’ve had it for just under 6 months, which is how long that publisher usually takes).
Today I (finally) finished the first draft of “Cloud Wars” (this month’s main twitter tale) and have continued reading through my NaNoWriMo novel, “Justice is Blind”. I just read chapter twenty for the first time, and it was surprisingly good.
“Justice is Blind” is about a blind empath girl who realises another empath wants complete power over Normals – and she is all that stands in their way.
(And there are some psychic cats.)
Felicity Banks 