RANDOM PANIC - numero tres

So today I sat in my bed feeling rather green. As in "I might puke."

Tomorrow I hear from the dreamy agent who has my novel. I figure the worst case scenario is that she will decline and give me some great advice. She really is quite brilliant and has given me fantastic advice about a couple of picture books in the past. I have certainly had many rejections for many different books, so no big deal, huh?

The thing is, I love this novel with such a dorky cockiness that my parents keep getting mad at me. I know I wrote the darn thing, but I love the characters and their story. And it doesn't feel like I made it up. It feels like I simply relayed a story I heard about some adorable teens (and one dickhead). And so I want them to have an agent as much as I, Katie, want one.

Granted, she is the first person other than my husband, mother, and professional critique group to even read it. So I am aware that the odds of the first agent picking it up are like a zillion to one. And I have prayed that if she is not the best match for me that she will decline. I have prayed this enough that I think I will be reassured if she declines, that she was definitely not a good match for me long-term. But still...

Having an agent means that one other person on this planet, other than my family and close friends, believes in me. And one person who actually knows what she is doing. And works in this industry. Oh Lord, I have a stomachache.

And although having an agent doesn't mean I will sell my book right away, if at all... It means my family will likely support this indulgent "hobby" of mine with a little more enthusiasm. And maybe I can delay the job search a little longer. (I worked as a second grade teacher this week and almost committed myself to an insane asylum. To say it SUCKED would be a gross understatement. Just mentioning it makes me want to take a valium.)

Of course it could just be that I am hormonal today, and, in that case, I'll just eat some chocolate and be fine in a matter of hours. Thank you for listening.

RANDOM PANIC - number two.

I told you I might have a few of these Panic posts. But seriously, is this going to be me, at age 80? Still writing my book, and still trying to sell it?? Please say no. Please say no. HAHA
She does kinda resemble me in my leather chair at the coffee shop...

So, lately, I decided that perhaps what I need is a good read of my story. Specifically the first 75 pages. So last week, after "Random Panic - number one," and before "Random Depression," (oh, we are sick) I emailed drafts to three people. The following day I received a call from Critiquer number one. She had so many great ideas and changes that I felt sick and overwhelmed with just trying to figure out where to begin. Because I really loved a lot of her ideas!

But then, within minutes, I got a call from Critiquer number two. (you gotta love these girl’s speed!) Her take on my story was almost the polar opposite of number one! Yikes! What to do? Panic set in fast. I decided to take a day off, and just think. But lately this is hard to do, because all I want to do is WRITE, WRITE, WRITE. What do you do when you have such opposite advice??

After pacing the house a few hundred times, I got another call. It was my precious neighbor and long, lost, best friend. She said, “Hey Katie, I haven’t seen you in so long that I miss you! How 'bout you come over tomorrow night for a glass of wine?”

Ahhh - I thought. That’s what non-writer friends are for :-) a glass of wine and mindless chatter. SURE! THANKS!!!

P.S. I have since received a review from C3, and she had even MORE ideas. My brain is feeling heavy and explosive.

P.P.S. I got an iphone, and it is helping with the chaos :-) I highly recommend one!

RANDOM PANIC - number one.

I titled this post "Random Panic - number one" because I assume that random panic might be the norm for me, so there will likely be a number two, three and so on. Here is an episode of said panic in the last week.

I have been camped out at the coffee shop for a couple of weeks working on my YA novel. Last week I had a mini panic attack. Not the kind that requires medicine, or makes you want to vomit, or faint... But the kind that requires a glass of wine and some “You can do its!” from mom, SF and other friends.

Maybe these periods of self-doubt are normal? Since I have never written a novel, I am not sure. It’s all new to me. I feel so good about my story, and yet there are places that feel dry, and large unwritten voids that I wondered if I would be able to effectively fill.

Oddly, as soon as I gave myself permission to back up and re-group, I felt better. And the ideas started flowing again. But for that one night, I felt depressed and worried. I sure hope those nights are few and far between, and I can crank out the story that my body literally aches to tell.

I'm choosing to think positive. I'll keep you posted.

P.S. Positive thinking doesn't mean random panic doesn't occur. At least not in my world. Oh! and I finally found some good music to listen to.