Query Letters, an art unto itself

All the reports are coming in negative. Every letter opened is a pre-printed rejection, what could be going wrong for me. It's hard to tell with these pre-printed things.

I did get one piece of (at least partialy) personalised feedback though. And, summed up it was "Your query letter did everything possible to prevent me from liking your book". It wasn't pleasant reading, but necessary, very necessary.

The email described how the agent progressed from the cover letter, onto the synopsis and then finally into the manuscript itself. At each step she felt clueless about the book because, and I'm realising it now, my letter does expect somebody to read through it thoroughly. It's effectively the first part of the book with a synopsis at the end to describe how the rest of it goes down.

I don't think that's what they are looking for. Or, at least, it's not the most effective way of presenting my work. Of course, I had done a lot of research before I wrote the thing and I had decided on "keeping it simple", but I think I might have gone a bit too spartan. I should allow the reader some comfort.

So, it's a case of revisiting it again, this time to add content while keeping it to the point. I'll get there eventually, and feedback like this brings me one step closer.

Such Narrow Half-lives

I was always idealistic. I always wanted to believe that the shortcomings I perceived in personal interactions was a trick of my minds eye. That it wasn't really like that.

I dreamed that one day I would see it clearly. That all that gray would give way to a truer light. That I was wrong.

I built my life on being wrong, in many ways. I counted it. But in many ways I was right. Everything has a life, everything I perceived is exactly what it was. It's hard to accept, but I made the right decisions.

There is a clock over every head, ticking away. Every friend you've ever had, had a timer. I think the problem is that I don't have a timer, or for some reason I don't listen to that bell when it goes off. I am determined to continue in the search for something real in my interactions. The fact that it ends just because it does invalidates it so much. It's measurable, it's comparable, it's just another thing in your life. It isn't real.

Whether by some, failing, or some, success, I am only interested in what is real. What can be built upon. Though I feel I have seen hints of it, the truth of the matter is far from me at this moment. I still just choose to believe that something more is possible, even if that too has it's time and then ends. I still choose to believe that these rules are not unbreakable, not universal.

I still choose to believe that all of this will not have been in vain.

Taking things up a notch

I'm an idea man. I get lots of mad ideas all the time.

I'm also a writing dude, I love writing and can hammer out words like nobodies business.

There is one thing that prevents these two things combining properly and it's the fact that I'm generally incredibly bad at organisation. When I have an Idea I usually can't write because of work or whatever and when I'm in a writing mood I sometimes can't think of anything to write. So, as an evolution of the "email myself an idea" program. The organisational matrix, mark 1.

A sample.



So, it's a way of keeping track of the ideas I've come up with and the current status of competion. Cool eh?

In other news I've submitted two short stories to two seperate magazines. (Tried a bit of science fiction, was lots of fun.)

I am definately finding trying out a few different genres has helped invigorate my writing. However, the trick is now weaning myself off the immediate satisfaction of short storydom and back onto the plodding but ultimately more meaningful journey to novelandia.

Paths, Destinies, Wants, Needs

So to what end do we play this game. I've been thinking this a lot, my usualy high spirits have been sapped by the rejection game, leading me to difficult questions of arguable importance.

The usual questions, why am I doing this? What else could I be doing? Why aren't things going as fast as I'd like them to? My life has pared down to not much more than this quest, this overwhelming desire.

It is in my nature to throw myself into something in my entirety. I don't necessarily see it as a problem. But I do of course, notice I am, to some degree at least, different to my common man.

Balance in my decisions and plans has always eluded me. And it is true, my concept of harmony is the balance of two extremes. It all fits together in my own personal philosophy, but I still long sometimes to be free of it all. I look back on my life and wonder if I had stayed my hand, if I had not given into my instinct, where would I be now. It's a useless train of thought I suppose.

I was messing around on a tarot card website earlier today. I drew that famous card "death". Well, all way is clear for this promised new life. I will embrace it, seize it and then dream of it's successor.

The George Carlin Dilemma

Okay, it's not really a dilemma but I wanted to hook it into my previous post.

Now, who is George Carlin? He's an American comedian of Irish descent who has done something that fills me with awe. You see, George Carlin used to be a sellout. He used to be this guy who went on stage and was desperate for people to love him. He had irishesque scruffy beard and he pranced about the stage in an extremely embarressing manner for everybody involved.

Of course, people did love him. He was very popular, massively popular even. But then something happened. Something touched this guys soul and he said to himself. "What the hell am I doing?"

And then, a miracle. He bought his soul back from the Devil he had sold it to in the first place and still somehow made a profit. (Convoluted metaphore, but you follow, right?) He went from, "kind of amusing" to "funny guy who hates everything."

Case study, 1977 performance I was watching yesterday. George was making jokes about cans and supermarkets. About dogs farting. He was pleased with himself, somehow.

Then, watched 2008 performance. (Filmed not too long before he died I guess. Miss you George.)



He kicked ass. Okay, so he stole a lot of the "spirit" of this performance from Bill Hicks. It's okay though, he didn't steal any jokes. (Only Denis Leary is sufficantly talentless, boring and stupid to try and steal from the master.)

Anyway, I'll make a post about Bill another time, but George was making jokes about how much kids annoy him and how humanity sucks and it was very funny. His humour finally had a soul, age brought meaning to the work he had spent his life developing. And I thought that was beautiful.

George was inspiration for us all, proof that age doesen't matter as long as you can buy your soul back from the Devil at a competitive rate.

Blind and Spiney

I've been pondering something I read up lately. This thing called the "hedgehog dilemma" originaly thought up by a guy called schopenhauer.

It's basicaly a metaphore for the human experience. You have a number of hedgehogs in a cold, deep and cold again cave. These little guys are shivering, though some more so than others.

The hedghogs attempt to huddle together for warmth, but in doing so hurt themselves on eachothers spines. To move closer is to experience more pain and the barbs push into their flesh. So the hedgehogs must make the difficult decision, is it better to be cold, or without pain.

An extension is that each of the hedgehogs has their own warmth, those with sufficant quantities do not need to hurt themselves on the spines at all. Thats a very German way of looking at it though. Perceiving need for warmth to be weakness.

It makes sense, in a way. But I find it very depressing, if only humans, like the real hedgehogs in nature, could lower their spines once in a while. There is an endemic defensiveness I see in most people, naturally distrustful. What's so bad about being hurt.

I'm a massive hypocrite, of course, but a man can believe...

P.S. I saw two puppies fighting in the park, it was cute. Then a cute baby crawled over and started punching them. True story.