If only finding representation were as easy for me as for a rapper's hometown.
I know, I know... It's been almost four months since my last post, the biggest gap ever in the now one year history of this blog. I know my readers are few, and somewhere small in the back of their minds, a dying gasp of a whisper itches at them to check for an update. The itch goes unheeded. And, to be honest, I've barely thought about this blog myself.
There are other things on my mind. Namely, the wretched process that is prying one's way into the publishing world. Hoping their polished turd of a book (or at least it feels that way sometimes) will reach beyond the realm of their friends and family. To one day see their work in print, and not because you paid someone to print it.
The first stage - writing the damn thing - I finished at the end of the year. The month of January was spent editing and polishing the aforementioned turd to the best of my ability, and letting a few family members read it. Only positive things were said.
But all that was the easy part. The next step was to find a literary agent to represent my work to a major publisher. SPOILER ALERT: I haven't.
I sent out a wave of email queries to a number of agencies, expecting either rejections, or nothing at all. But, within the first day of my search, an agent requested my first 50 pages! Needless to say I was quite excited, especially since no such luck was found after querying for months with Float.
Then, they asked for the full manuscript. I was awestruck. Periodic feedback was very positive, and my tower of hopes kept building higher and higher. It felt like such a sure deal, that in no time negotiations would be made with a big publishing house to get Sons of Sludge on the shelves. I had the chilled bubbly on standby at all times.
But then, my tower of hopes was smeared with the very turd it was built upon, then knocked over into the mud. And more turds. The agency ended up declining my book.
And now I'm back to square one. Actually, square negative one, as I have less agents to query than when I started. It's quite depressing.
I jest when I say Sons of Sludge is a turd. I actually think it is very good, worthy of print and readership and accolades. And, though I am aware of my personal bias, I believe it to be better than some books already in print, even on some best-seller lists. But what good is that if an agent, much less a publishing company, doesn't feel the same way? I know it's all just part of the game, but sometimes playing the game sucks.
But I guess I shouldn't complain too much. I haven't been at it for too long, where other fellow authors having been searching for an agent for years. And, like them, I won't give up. Thanks for hearing me vent, and hopefully, the next time I post, it'll be that good news every budding author dreams of.
