I embarked on a kind of scary enterprise a couple of weeks ago: pitching agents.
After looking around and selecting 3 who are accepting new clients, I crafted cover letters and proposals and e-mailed them out. So far, I'm 0 for 2. And not even good declines. Form e-mails. It's disheartening (but not unexpected).
Courage, I tell myself.
Before I can write sometimes I have to scratch the ole meme itch. Like Memewhore, White People Twitter, and Erotic Lizard Fiction. I also enjoy tuning into WWOZ in New Orleans (French Quarter Festival this weekend!) and watching the underwater videos of the EV Nautilus exploration vessel.
Standing on a corner this morning, I watched 2 men run a red light. Just flat out ignore it and proceed through the intersection. One on a motorcycle, on on a bike.
I crossed and went to stand in line at the coffee shop. This one is a storefront, so you line up along the sidewalk and folks are still mostly masked and giving each other plenty of space. There were 2 people in front of me so I took a spot by the curb.
Customer #1 finished his business, and walked away. Customer #2 moved up and so did I.
Then a whyte man of a certain age (let's say 50's) came boogieing down the sidewalk. Jaunty. Short. Unmasked. Stopped in his tracks to look at the pastries in the coffee shop case. Bent over, peered at them. (In the meantime, no eye contact with me or the customer at the window.) The guy took a few steps away, then peered in again at the pastries, as if thinking things over. Then proceeded to stand in front of me, right behind customer #2.
Huh.
After a moment, I said, Hey dude, I'm in line.
He whirled and walked closer. Oh, I didn't realize you were in line. You're standing so far away, I thought you were just standing there.
British accent, I realize, and he's right in my face. Like spitting distance. I indicated customer #2. I'm just trying to give him some space.
The guy came to stand maybe 6 inches from me. Why are you being so aggressive? he said loudly.
Jesus christ. Can you just give me some space? I said, taking another step back.
I don't understand why you're being so aggressive! he screamed. Passersby stared. I didn't know you were in line, you could have simply been polite instead of being so aggressive.
I raised a hand, angry but calm. Please, stop talking to me.
Customer #2 departed so I stepped forward. The man was still screaming behind me about how aggressive and unfair I was being.
The coffee shop folks were extremely solicitous and kind but I was shooketh. I drilled the jerk with a look when I left but I didn't say anything else.
It's clear whyte men of a certain age cannot stand to be simply asked to give space, to yield, to consider others, to cede an inch of their motherfucking dominance. I'm capable of calmly standing up for myself but it's fucking exhausting.
Thanks to the Seattle Public Library I finally was able to check out The Dawn of Everything: A New History of Humanity, by David Graeber and David Wengrow. It's a weighty topic, revisiting human history using indigenous texts and reexamining archaeological discoveries and questioning assumptions. How did I not realize that yes, there are contemporaneous texts from indigenous leaders who encountered the white Europeans descending on North America? Of course there are, and the indigenous Americans didn't think much of the Europeans' way of interacting with each other, the striving and cheating and stealing. The authors also noodle over ideas of equality and freedom and how those were expressed in various civilizations. They posit that humans a thousand years ago traveled more and farther than humans today. And so on.
Anyway, 300 pages in I realized the e-book was due back at SPL in a day.
And I realized, it's an 1100 page book and there was no way to plow through 800 pages in a day.
So, I'm on the hunt for another copy via other libraries, back on the SPL waiting list and hoping to get back to reading soon. It's that good of a book.
In the meantime, here are thoughts.
Pro: Atlantic
Welp it's scary time for this writer, aka marketing and promotion time.
My happy place is several hours of creative writing, maybe some light editing, finding a through point in a story or solving a problem with a plot.
I can tolerate the submissions side of things, reading through calls for submissions, preparing the document properly -- some journals read blind, so names come off of documents. Some have word limits, or themes, or extremely limited windows to send stuff in. And don't get me started on fees. I could buy a used car with all of the submission and contest and entry fees I've paid over the years.
My absolute least favorite though is pitching to an agent. In the early days you went to writing conferences and signed up for a 10 minute slot to pitch in person (and get rejected in person). I was never successful. Now pitching mostly happens online, which is less terrifying, but you still have to write a synopsis and proposal and sometimes a chapter-by-chapter outline and also a cover letter. There are formatting rules here too, sometimes they want the first 5 pages of the manuscript, or the first 10, or the first 10000 words.
It will be worth it, I think, but as with most creative pursuits, it's not all wild-eyed genius at work. It's head-down weeding through opportunities and persistently trying and trying again. My most recent story was accepted by 3 venues (lesson to self to withdraw promptly) and also rejected by about 10.
As my writerly uncle used to say, it's at some level a numbers game.
I took this picture in New Mexico at Elephant Butte Lake State Park a few weeks ago. I visited reluctantly, not in the mood for a hike but knowing I needed to get some exercise. Well it’s weirdly gorgeous, like most of NM. The lake seems human-made and is ringed by what seem to be permanent campers (we saw more than one person hanging out their drawers to dry). The “beach” was rocky and windy but a pleasant walk. A loose dog nipped my leg so we cut our walk short and headed back to the car, passing these trash containers on our way.
I can’t imagine pulling fish out of the grubby water there, much less trying to eat it. And if someone has to tell you not to throw fish guts in the trash, well then I really just don’t know.
Getting through bronchitis and whatever else has put reading on the back burner and trashy television front and center. I have no shame, there’s lots out there that’s frothy and delicious. Namely, devious white people taking rich people’s money, living a life of glamour and cachet, and finally getting caught.
First up, Inventing Anna. This is candy-colored fashion, cross-continental conniving, and a wonderfully told story. I loved every moment. Highlights are Laverne Cox as a celebrity trainer, Alexis Floyd as Neff, and Julia Garner’s mysterious accent.
I’ve also watched both of the Fyre Festival recaps on Hulu and Netflix and also the first Elizabeth Holmes tell-all, “The Inventor.”
And, apparently there’s more coming. More Holmes, plus a documentary about the vegan chef who ran away from NYC a few years ago. The grifts know no end. I’m sure there are anthropological findings in here but for now I’m just enjoying the stories.
With so much couch time lately, I've been reflecting on change and loss.
The obvious loss is my mentor from work, who passed last summer and who we were finally able to memorialize yesterday.
A wonderful man, smart and funny, who spent his last few years declining into an Alzheimer's fog.
Mercifully for him he's gone now, but we traded stories yesterday and laughed some and cried as we tried to comfort his family.
*
My friendships have changed forever.
One friend absconded to Dallas, others to a nearby island, and one more just announced a house purchase in southern Oregon.
At least two are working remotely from all over the hemisphere and never here.
Others just aren't responding to texts anymore, or put me on a day or two delay to say they're not going out, just not.
Family is changed too. I feel so alone. Invisible. Unneeded, now that the teenagers are twenty-somethings and everyone has someone.
I know I can find community, that it will take time and effort and a new version of friends and family will emerge.
But, today I mourn.
