Taking Stock

A few nights ago I had this dream where I landed an agent, who immediately found a publisher interested in my work.

Overnight, it seemed, I went from doing my thing privately to having deadlines and people reviewing my novels. It felt strange because the only thing that had changed was that now people were aware of me-- but it changed everything. Then it devolved into this high speed chase with me driving this insane criminal woman around who was trying to push me out of the moving truck. I had to steer while hanging onto the seat belt with my free hand and fight her off. Whichever of us admitted we had to go to the bathroom first would "lose". (?)

Last year that was one of my goals-- get an agent, get published-- not the truck-chase smackdown bladder battle. Now that year has come and gone and I still don't have an agent, but I can't call it a total fail. I still believe my author life exists in my future, bound to me by invisible strings I either reel in or play out by my actions-- but it's there. It's a thing.

I'm actually working on my third novel. The first has been shelved. It's a cool concept I may return to someday, but it was my first attempt. I learned a lot, but my work wasn't ready for prime time. My second is the one I'm querying later this month, the one I have a partial and a full out on. (writer speak for "two different agents are looking at")

Last March I stayed up late one night editing some final touches. ("final"-- HA!) I was working and saving the whole thing on Mac's online server, thinking that was the safest bet. When I opened my file the next morning it was empty. The server had eaten my whole novel, and I had no back-up anywhere else.

I spent the whole day in near hysterics-- on the phone with mac people, at the mac store, online with the server people who work in an underground bunker somewhere without phone service (so they say). In the end all I could do was scrawl a bunch of crappy notes, trying to remember the story progression as best I could, patch together a rough chapter list, and hope they could get it back. They said they'd get back to me but it may take up to six weeks, and they couldn't promise they could restore any of my files.

They next day I began writing #3, the one I'm still finishing today. That's when I think I really became a writer. I'd maybe lost over a year's work, and my response was to begin my next project, because writers write. Since then I did get my novel back, and it's been revised even more. In fact even now I'm making little changes here and there. I've learned so much in the last year-- "back-the-eff-up-fool!" being just one. I think I'm a better writer, and I know nothing will deter me from continuing to try.

I didn't land an agent in 08, but maybe I reeled in enough line that it will happen in 09. Maybe 08 was a laying track year. My big goal for 09 is still to get an agent and get published, to embark on that life, and also to help my creativity flourish in any way it needs to, to give it room, and follow it and trust it. I think this will be a good year.