Ding, Ding, Ding: Round 1

I've stepped into the ring.  Dry-mouthed.  Heart pounding.  Forgetting all those hooks and jabs I never did take the time to learn.  Gloves on.  Actually, though, I couldn't find my boxing gloves, so I'm making do with a pair of oven mitts instead.  Do you think they'll mind?  Standing here waving my fists around in circles, waiting my turn to get clobbered.

Or that's how I feel anyway.

The vision in my head is ever so much more exciting than what really happened.

What really happened is I sat down in front of my computer screen for endless hours, googled things like "writing a fiction book proposal" and "finding an agent," and finally sent off a couple hopeful queries to potential publishers and agents.

See?  The boxing metaphor is more amusing.

Now I'm waiting to see if I get an Old Aunt Bertha response that starts out, "Thank you for your proposal, but we regret to inform you . . . ." (Ding, ding, ding!  End of Round One!) - or - if I hear something more like Yoda's, "Welcome, my young padawan apprentice."

I suppose either one would be alright.  But I am rather hoping at least one of the replies veers more towards the latter.

I don't know if I can say I'm exactly enjoying my introduction to the world of publishing.  One thing I have found in my research is a whole host of YA Christian fantasy books I never knew existed before.  My favorite so far is Rachel Starr Thomson's World's Unseen from The Seventh World Trilogy.  It's free on Amazon if you have a Kindle. (Note: In the publishing world, this is what they refer to as an endorsement.  If I could get the President of the United States to endorse my book, I'd be golden.)

In the meanwhile, I'll be sitting in front of my computer, waiting to hear back from Aunt Bertha or Yoda.

Oh, the Joys of Authoring!

(From an author who possibly is inspired and maybe aspired and possibly soon will be expired, but might not really be an author in the strictest sense of the word)

I’ve been looking for a place to make a proposal.

Which, I would like to note, is entirely different from looking for a person to make a proposal.

I’ve finished a book.  And in very good time too.  Now.  In the year 2013.  When the tried and true publishing companies find new authors too risky to . . . well, risk.  And most of the other publishing companies sound a bit fishy if the reviews I’m reading are any measure.

I learned about circular reasoning way back in high school.  They didn’t tell me it affected the publishing world.  It goes like this:

    Me: How do I sell my book?
    Them: Well, you have to have a platform.
    Me: How do I get a platform?
    Them: Well, you have to do something famous, like selling a book.

I’m currently spending my extra hours wading through various publishing sites (oh, and there’s all sorts of those, let me tell you!) in the search for their submission guidelines.  If you can find the guidelines (They seem to like to hide in remote corners, chortling, “You'll never find me here!  Mwa-ha-ha!”), they tend to read like a rejection from a rather frumpish old maid.  “We’re sorry, but we do not at this time accept unsolicited proposals.” (Ie: A thousand pardons if you’ve already bought the ring, but I really didn’t ask you for one, so kindly take it away!”)

All those solicitings and proposings are rather going to my head.

I watch movies like Miss Potter and Becoming Jane and wish I could jump in my carriage with my bundle of penned parchments, drive to the nearest publishing company, and say in a clear British voice, “Pardon, but could you spare me a moment of your time?”

I suppose I could try renting a carriage, painstakingly write my manuscript out with a quill, and don an infallible British accent with the publishing companies of today, but I doubt it would help.

Can you be arrested for that sort of thing?

I am pleased to announce two very small bits of headway.  First, I have an only-slightly-less-than-official editor now delving into my manuscript.  And, second, I’ve started on my way to knowing all the options that will not work. (How many failures did it take before Edison perfected the light bulb?)

In the meanwhile, I’m tentatively sketching a plan for Book Two and wondering if I ought to find a second job.

The Search for . . .

So, my grand, thrilling search is for . . .

I would really love - you have no idea how much I would love - to type three little letters here.

Really.

Really, really love.

CIA.

Maybe when I’m 70 and have come to terms with deserting my begonias. (It’s a Mrs. Pollifax thing.  If you haven’t read the books, you probably think I’m crazy right now.)

However.  No, sadly, my search has nothing to do with the CIA.  Or at least it doesn’t yet.  Who knows?  They could become involved later on.

What I’m really doing right now in present time in this world is searching for a publishing company.  To, you know, publish.  Because of last month's announcement.  Travá.  The manuscript that's gotten all super official now and earned itself a slash above the last a.  Mostly because I kept hearing family members say "Trav-uh?" (Kayla!), and a slash was a good way to make things less confusing.

Since the publishing search is filling up a rather large part of my computer time at present, this blog could quickly turn into an unfortunate rant of pent-up frustrations from all my as-of-yet-un-received rejection letters. (I’m trying to be realistic and bracing myself for the worst.)

Or I could go off radar and get so disappointed, I just stop writing entirely.

I’m not really sure which.

I guess we’ll have to wait and see.

(Oh, in the event that the third option happens and I rise to fame overnight, you should probably request a copy of my autograph now before I start charging.)

Welcome to the incoherent ramblings of a wannabe author.

(Make yourself a member up in the right-hand corner and be one of the first to read, “ACK!  I’m published!!  Now what????”)

(Oh, and look!  The front cover has changed!  Already???  Yeah, already!  This one looks more official, doesn't it?  Just wait till the next one comes out!)

Et Cetera

Just a little note from an artist who'd make a horrible detective.  I'm not saying y'all aren't observant or anything like that, but if you do happen to be like me and maybe don't always see the tiniest bits of change that take place on things like skies and faces and murder scenes and blog headings . . .

Up on the dark sea blue strip overhanging this post are two little words:  Et Cetera.

That might be only one little word.  I'm not really up on my Latin.

Anyhow.

The two little words are my link to you and your link to my . . . creativity.  I'm really good at inventing new things.  Not like light bulbs or panty hose.  More like musicals and earrings.  I'm not so good at actually telling people that I've invented something.  Et Cetera is my new way to clue you in to what I'm currently inventing.

Consider yourself clued.

(Hint: If you're not seeing my Latin, you can click this word Here.)