I am currently sitting in a puddle of post-query paranoia.
Actually, that's not completely true. It's a puddle of post-manuscript-sending-because-of-affirmative-response-to-query paranoia. That's a little different. The symptoms are far more extreme, the mood swings far crazier. On Monday morning, I sent a query letter to a literary agent for my book, "To Journey in the Year of the Tiger", and within six hours, he had emailed back, asking to see the complete manuscript.
Wow. That's unheard of.
So, of course, I went back to my manuscript and began to re-edit. I have edited and re-edited and re-redited that manuscript for over a year now. You'd think it would be ready, but hey, once you're in the grips of that initial post-query paranoia, nothing seems sensical. It's like trying to clean your messy house when someone rings the doorbell. So I stopped. I took several deep breaths. Got a little woozy, so went down, got a very large glass of Shiraz, went back to my laptop, hit reply, attach and send.
Now, it's the disease in full colour.
My stomach has fled the confines of my abdomen. Tears randomly spring to my eyes. I have that "Fight or Flight" reaction - have had it for almost 24 hours now, and it is exhausting. I don't want to be on the computer, because every time I see that little red "You've Got Mail" flag, or hear that little ping, I swallow and break into sweat. Damn. Really?
It's pride, I know this. Pride and fear all intermingled. What if he doesn't like it? What if he liked my query, but now not my book? How can I pull myself up and out of this puddle, and is my self-confidence so firmly based on the opinion of one man? Sad, really. I wish it wasn't so important but for some reason, it is. If you're reading this, you probably understand.
So, I'll try to work some more. All I want to do is plunge headfirst into another story, to take my mind off this one, but I have a job to do. Whitening teeth on several women for a family portrait. Shaving inches off their backsides. That's okay. We all have our paranoias, our neuroses, our hangups. It's what makes us wonderful and alive. We all live in worlds within our minds. It's the world outside that scares us.
I think I need another glass of wine...
Actually, that's not completely true. It's a puddle of post-manuscript-sending-because-of-affirmative-response-to-query paranoia. That's a little different. The symptoms are far more extreme, the mood swings far crazier. On Monday morning, I sent a query letter to a literary agent for my book, "To Journey in the Year of the Tiger", and within six hours, he had emailed back, asking to see the complete manuscript.
Wow. That's unheard of.
So, of course, I went back to my manuscript and began to re-edit. I have edited and re-edited and re-redited that manuscript for over a year now. You'd think it would be ready, but hey, once you're in the grips of that initial post-query paranoia, nothing seems sensical. It's like trying to clean your messy house when someone rings the doorbell. So I stopped. I took several deep breaths. Got a little woozy, so went down, got a very large glass of Shiraz, went back to my laptop, hit reply, attach and send.
Now, it's the disease in full colour.
My stomach has fled the confines of my abdomen. Tears randomly spring to my eyes. I have that "Fight or Flight" reaction - have had it for almost 24 hours now, and it is exhausting. I don't want to be on the computer, because every time I see that little red "You've Got Mail" flag, or hear that little ping, I swallow and break into sweat. Damn. Really?
It's pride, I know this. Pride and fear all intermingled. What if he doesn't like it? What if he liked my query, but now not my book? How can I pull myself up and out of this puddle, and is my self-confidence so firmly based on the opinion of one man? Sad, really. I wish it wasn't so important but for some reason, it is. If you're reading this, you probably understand.
So, I'll try to work some more. All I want to do is plunge headfirst into another story, to take my mind off this one, but I have a job to do. Whitening teeth on several women for a family portrait. Shaving inches off their backsides. That's okay. We all have our paranoias, our neuroses, our hangups. It's what makes us wonderful and alive. We all live in worlds within our minds. It's the world outside that scares us.
I think I need another glass of wine...
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