Some Days Are Just Like That, Ya Know?

 

 

 

Okay, I’m going to get down to the crux of the issue, some days a person should stay in bed.  Today, I should have buried my head under the blankets and written it off the page of my life.   It all began last evening actually.  I decided to email some queries with a synopsis.  There I sat, nice and relaxed, mug of java in hand feeling content and rather accomplished.  I was  slap happy with my query letter and I was beginning to feel deep love for my synopsis.  I sent out six email queries and with a joyous curve to my lips, I hit send.  Ah, such satisfaction!  Now I would wait in jittery anticipation for the reaction to my story offering.  Off to bed I toddled ( yes I toddle occasionally, as well as bip, amble and my personal favourite, mosey) satisfied with my effort and glowing from the dreamy prospect that perhaps my query could lead to my dream come true.  You all know that hopeful sensation deep in your heart and the accompanying fantasy of book signings, interviews and all other egomaniacal theatrics you can mentally conjure.  As my head hit the pillow and the nether world of dreams enveloped me, I had no idea that calamity would replace the new beaming optimism.   

Up I jumped ( okay, I didn’t jump, but I did a very jazzy slide) out of bed.  With my java  in hand I signed into ye olde email account, bursting with anticipation.   YES!  an agent replied.  I couldn’t believe it, so soon! They must have liked the story!  I opened the email to find these lovely words of greeting:  THIS EMAIL WAS BLANK.   Frantically I coasted over to my ’sent’ folder and after checking all six, I discovered much to my horror that yes indeed, there was nothing in the body of any of the emails.  OH DEAR GOD!  WHY ME?  After slapping myself senseless for a few minutes I recovered from the absolute shame of it all and decided to retry.  I discovered that  Microsoft Word is a menace and I corrected the problem.  In a frenzy (I had to hurry out the door to my day job) I sent all six once again.  Just as I was preparing to close the laptop I had this nagging feeling to recheck them, just to be sure, and well…ah… to feed my obsessive compulsive need.  Okay, now this is where it takes  a terrible turn.  Five were perfectly sent.  Oh yes FIVE were wonderful.  ONE was not.  Of course the ONE which wasn’t perfect, was sent to the agent I’ve been hankering after, no salivating for.  Want to know the imperfection?  Not only did I address this person by the wrong name, but by the wrong gender!  I also had no damn time to send another email to try and rectify the error.   About an hour ago I sent an email, hoping this person will ignore my greeting deficit, but I somehow think the chances of that are about as remote as world peace and winning the lottery.  Ah…ain’t the writing life grand?

Brrr…That’s cold…An Interesting Rejection

 

 

 

Brrr…Sometimes this business can be a frozen hell, when it’s not fraying your nerve fibres within an inch of snapping.  Let me explain:

On January 19, I submitted a piece called ‘ Taken ‘ to an online magazine that also does a print business.   Today I received a response and it was peculiar and anonymously chilly.    The publication itself is a small affair and the focus is on women.  There are no fluff pieces and most of the writing is clean, tight and informative.   In fact, sometimes it’s downright moving.    This is why I’m rather surprised by the absolute coldness of their response.    According to the greeting of this email I’m a non-entity with no name, and there was no mention of the title of my submission which they were rejecting.    It was as if someone sat there and hit the send button to an assortment of generic writers.  I’m not exactly a newbie,  I’ve been published in mainstream magazines and  I’ve come to expect this occasionally and only from larger book publishers who are inundated with masses of submissions to wade through.   However, it’s rather obscene coming  from a small almost intimate magazine such as this and certainly not to this degree.    I’m experienced  enough to expect at least my name attached to the letter or email.   Form letters are relatively common in this business,  but this was more akin to an advertisement for entering their fiction contest for a fee.    This is ridiculous for an enterprise of this size and utterly unprofessional for an editor.    I wonder how much more degraded the publishing business will get as the economy tumbles further into the abyss.    Thoughts anyone?  Feel free to leave your opinion in the comments section, or share your own experiences.