Sunday, May 8, 2011

It's Always Darkest Before It's Pitch Black

I've been so busy getting nowhere the last several months I neglected updating the blog. Perhaps because I kept thinking if I waited I’d have something worth writing about. Perhaps because I didn’t want to admit publicly I had nothing to write about. 

Let’s face it, after what seemed like such a promising start with the agent of my dreams, everything petered out to nothing. Our romance quickly went from giddy school girl talks to not returning my calls or emails. For a little while my heart beat with the excitement of new love. After a few short weeks I returned to having no pulse at all. By January I realized my writing career was dead. Worse than dead really since I'd have to start the whole process over again in finding an agent.

Not one to be bitter I sent out a shotgun blast of query letters to agents near and far. When I say ‘not bitter’ I mean extra special bitter like the microbrew only less appetizing and more upsetting to the stomach. I received back a handful of polite rejections letting me know they could care less. New picture book authors are not in high demand these days. I got the hint and stopped submitting. It wasn’t worth the cost of postage. Or ego.

Then one day a few weeks ago I picked up the phone and dialed my former dream agent’s number. I don’t know why. We hadn’t spoken for months. It was a spontaneous, reckless sort of decision, the same sort of decision making that led to the perm I sported in my wedding photos (a perm, really?). I just wanted to know what had I done? Was it this blog? Perhaps he hadn’t appreciated my Mayberry references.

To my surprise, he picked up. To my greater surprise he recognized my name. And then he dropped the bombshell. His father had died a few months ago. He was just now getting back to work. After losing my Mom two years ago I felt for what he was going through and told him so.

He went on to explain he probably couldn’t be of much help to me at the moment. He said he’d understand if I wanted to submit my work elsewhere. I told him I had. And had the scars to prove it. He understood my plight, a familiar one these days for picture book authors.

We were about to hang up when he mentioned an illustrator of his who was looking for a project, an illustrator with multiple publishing credits. He told me if I’d email my manuscripts again he’d forward them on right away.

I did as asked and true to his word he forwarded them on that afternoon. The next morning the illustrator emailed to say he loved one of the stories and wanted to provide sketches for use in marketing it to publishers.

In a period of 24 hours my writing life returned from the valley of despair to the twisting goat trail of hope. The summit seemed once again within reach, kinda, sorta, almost.

There's more to tell but it'll have to wait 'til next time...