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Monday, June 27, 2011

A Melancholy Moment, If You Will Allow

Dr. Luv and I put down not one, but two offers on homes this past week, and both were rejected. Grrr. It's hard to know what to do when you are rejected. Is this just a little taste of what it feels like to send out multiple queries and then get rejected over and over again by agents and publishers? I'm not looking forward to that.

Lately I've been feeling like my first draft is a lot like a heap of burning poo left out on my doorstep and I can't figure out how to put the fire out. In short, it stinks. I am writing one of those books with a strong beginning, a strong, exciting ending in mind, and a lot of unorganized, uneventful blegh in the middle. My only hope is to write out all the blegh and then go back through and excite-ify it somehow. It's just crazy to think about how much work it's taking to do my first draft, when I know that once I finally finish it (and eat the big celebration cake that I plan to bake for myself when it's done), the real work will only be beginning.

Such is life when you want to create perfection. It takes so. much. work.

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