Waiting and Heartache

This week, I finally did it. I finally sent out my story 'The Barnyard Exercise'.After much debate and advice my from awesome critique group and writers on Writeoncon, I finally deemed it ready for the eyes of literary agents throughout the word-well, mostly New York, anyway.

'And how's that going?' you ask.

Well, not so good.

The day after I submitted my story, I got a bite. Yippee! Hooray! I'm on my way! A literary agent liked my query, so I sent in my 150 word manuscript to the agent with all the hope that a heart could hope.

And.... he didn't like it. Wah! Wah! Wah! Heartache!

He did have some very positive things to say about the manuscript, however. So I'm not going to consider it a complete wash.

So now what?

Well, I wait and hope some more. Maybe others will like my little ms. After all, 'Carrie' received like 30 rejections before someone decided to publish that work of genius. And 'Gone with the Wind', received 38 rejections. And that is a classic, my friends.

Not that I'm saying 'Barnyard Exercise' is the same league as either of those books. That would be laughable.

But am I saying, that one rejection isn't going to cause me to cower beneath the covers, or shake beneath the sheets. I will hold onto hope until the very last rejection comes back. And even then, I will search for even the smallest hint of advice, and use it to make my story better. Because my little story is cute and original, I tell ya. And I believe it could be successful.

So my questions to you guys and gals are these: Have you ever had an experience like this? Did your story get picked up eventually, or did you give up? What advice do you have for other writers ont this particular subject?
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Kids Say the Darndest Things

So today, I was huddled in my computer room, sending out query-after-query, when my four year old happened into the room.

"Whatcha doing, mommy?" he asks, as he removes his saliva soaked thumb from his mouth.

"Well, buddy," I start to answer, as if he'll know what I'm talking about. "Mommy is sending out her story today. You see, if mommy ever wants to see her story become a book, I have to send it to people who can make that happen."

Suddenly, Josh shrieks. "No, mom, I wanna hear your story every day! If you send it out, I will never get to hear it!"

To which I reply, "It's okay, buddy. I have a copy. And when it gets published, I promise that you'll be the first person to get a signed copy."

Josh looks at me with a raised brow. " What's that?" he asks, innocently.

To which I respond with a hug, "Nevermind, I guess you have to be five to appreciate that!" and chuckle.

Then, of course, I retell my picturebook, from memory.

And Josh, says all the words with me:)

God, I love my kids!

Add A Little Extra

Want to add a little something extra to your blog?

Try adding a custom signature. Follow the link, and give it a try.

http://shabbyblogsblog.blogspot.com/2009/05/tutorial-how-to-add-custom-signature-to.html

Hotbed Of Out-Of-Control Behavior

Today my household is a hotbed of out-of-control behavior. Little boys are zooming through the house, like tasmian devils on a sugar highs. Little boys are are jumping from couch-to-couch, like mischievous monkeys. And little boys are eating a buffet of semi-sugary treats and drinks that would cause a full-grown adult to go into a sugar coma.

'Why in the world am I allowing this anarchy to continue?' you ask.

Research.

Today is all about perusing the internet for the agents, and finding the perfect super-group of agents to send my story to.

For the past year and half, I have worked on my craft. I have read books, articles, and blogs. I have participated in online critique groups and attended online conferences. I have even submitted one picturebook story to about 3 agents...total.

But today, is all about up-ing my game. I've talked the big talk, and now I'll walk the big walk. And in order to do that, I need to take it to the next level.

So what is the next level?

The next level, is researching pb agents until my eyes bleed, apparently. It's looking at submission guidelines-so long and so hard-that I walk away with away with a small group of feint black dots swirling around in front of my eyes, and a migraine that would bring a horse to his knees.

But, surprisingly, I'm enjoying it. The kids are playing semi-nicely. I haven't had to intercede....yet, anyway. And I'm appreciating the VERY lengthy guidelines and agents descriptions.

Because,hey, I don't want to wast my time and money either.


So, I'll continue researching until my eyes bleed. And I'll allow the anarchy to continue in my household-at least, until it seems like my children have had way too many sugary treats, and I simply must intercede with an apple or some grapes.

And I won't feel the least bit guilty. Because, hey, I am living my dream. And a good mother shows her children balance. And a good mother plays with her children and still shoots for the stars. And a good mother can do it all.

Right?

Ok. So maybe I'm feeling a little bit guilty about trying to do it all. But a good mother always worries, right?

RIGHT?

The Song of the City

Warning: This poem was written for the sheer fun of it. I have not checked it for meter or syllable count. Nor have I have lost any sleep over it-mostly because I wrote it an hour ago.

Sometimes you just have to write what's in your heart, without any intention of it being published traditionally. And on this day, in particular, I was just thinking about the background noise of the world, and how its like lullaby of sorts.

The Song of the City
As I lay in bed, with my eyes shut tight,
The glow of the street lamps light up the night.
With a zip and a zat, they click on like that.
And I hear the song of the city.

As the planes fly by, like a flash in the sky,
The sounds of their engines soar upon high.
With a woosh and a creek, tiny flaps start to squeak.
And I hear the song of the city.

As the cabs speed past, with their fares in tow.
They race through the night in the streets below.
With a honk and a beep, as I try to sleep.
And I hear the song of the city.

As the train chugs on, like a sad soft song,
With a haunting refrain, that I must sing along.
With a choo and a choo, I feel like a snooze,
As I hear the song of the city.

As my eyes flip flap, like the wings of a dove.
And the stars blink high, in the sky above.
With a ZZZZZZ like a roar, I begin to snore.
And I add to the song of the city.

Writing In Rhyme Can Be Such A Rough Climb

Think you have what it takes to write in rhyme, just because you know a few rhyming words and a have a cute idea for a story? Think again!

Writing in rhyme is tough. Not only do you have to tell a story with perfect meter-Huh?-but you also have to progress the story and have a unique twist. Which in case no one told you, isn't easy.

About a year ago and a half ago, I started writing in rhyme. And although I hate to admit it, I thought rhyming would be a breeze. After all, how hard could it be? Dr. Seuss made it look so darned easy, with so few words.

But little did I know, just how hard it would be. And when I submitted my first story to one of my critique groups-fully expecting to get rave reviews-what I found instead, was that I was greeted by a bunch of meter maids, who politely hit me with their buckets, then ran me over with their (figurative) livestock.

OUCH! Painful!

And I don't want that for you guys. I don't want you to be assaulted by a bunch of meter maids (or men). I want you to know what you're doing.

So today, I've posted a lovely little video-courtesy of wikihow-detailing how to write in rhyme, or at least scan your rhymes. And I hope that it will help you, like it helped me.

Good luck, fellow rhymers!

Rhyming Resources
http://www.wikihow.com/Scan-a-Poem
http://www.underdown.org/mf-rhyme-and-meter.htm
http://www.underdown.org/mf-rhyming-picture-books.htm
http://www.rhymezone.com
http://www.smartwriters.com/content/view/351/
http://writeoncon.com/2010/08/meter-meter-sleep-depleter-by-author-tiffany-strelitz/

*This post was inspired by a very clever meter man. And if you're reading this, you now who you are:)


They look so friendly, don't they?

What's New With Me?

This summer was rough. In the late spring, I received a few rejections-worded very nicely, not too tough to swallow-and I was feeling really bummed about writing in general.

And while I know I said that I would let rejections roll off of my back and learn from them in a poem posted on this very blog, I didn't at first. I let them simmer and stew. And soon, my bummed feelings turned into full blown, bury your head in the sand-itis.

Seriously, I was like an ostrich. I burried my head under my pillow and refused to write.Ideas would come to me, and I would ignore them. The imaginary characters that tried to whisper to me, had found that I was holding my ears and yelling 'Lalalalalalalala' at the top of my lungs, like a stubborn kid who doesn't want to listen to his mother.

It was really quite sad. Imagine a 34 year old acting like that.

But then Fall arrived-or at least the beginning of the school year in Florida-and I was feeling hopeful again. I simply couldn't ignore my friends anymore.

After all, they hadn't abandoned me. I had abandoned them.

So slowly, I took my fingers off of my ear lobes and started listening again. And what I heard, was a funny, rhyming picture book story about barnyard animals who like to excercise each morning, before the farmer wakes up.

Picture dogs jogging by with sneakers on. Imagine cows doing yoga by the plow. Visualize ducks playing hockey. If you can do that, you'll have an idea of what 'Barnyard Exercise' is all about.

So that's what I've been up to, bloggers: burying my head in the figurative sand, recovering from rejection, learning from rejection (hopefully), and writing a funny story about barnyard animals.My only prayer is that someone will see the story, and be just as happy with it as I am.

So here I am, crossing my fingers and throwing my intentions into the universe.

I'll let you know if the universe throws anything back:)