Well, I have no updates about my friend, Ash; just some conjecture and commentary. I’m sort of confused and stumped by her disappearance. A lot of my other friends (shout out!) have been supportive, which is great, but it sort of makes me feel afraid. It’s not fun to stare at the harsh truth that someone can quit being your friend at any time, for any reason. Especially when friendship is what you value more than anything. My hunch is that Ash is working through some issues related to entitlement, expectations, and reality. That’s just a guess. My dad says she’s stewing in her own juices. I told him that she’s not a freakin’ pork chop, but he added that she tried to pick a fight with me as her means of self-destructing.
It feels as if I’ve been playing chess with the universe and I just lost a bishop.
In other news, I’ve been submitting my memoir, and it’s a lot of work. It requires hours of data entry and document gathering. Each agent wants something different. Some just want the query letter, period. Some want the query and three pages and a synopsis. Some want the query and the proposal and an additional author bio. You see what I mean.
And then some agents just have you input it all into an online submission form. One question is, “If you’ve self-published, how many copies did you sell in the first year?” and I’m always honest and answer, “Five.” I know that’s the wrong answer, but come on. [Eyeroll.] Agents know there’s no money in self-publishing, so if they still feel the undying need to ask how many copies I sold, I’m not going to try to impress them by slightly inflating the number.
But I’ve got a fun project planned as my next big thing: I’m going to write naughty fiction. Yes, you read that right. And for those of you who know my particular fetish (cough, cough, ahem, cough), it will definitely be in there. (For those of you who don’t know, it involves being naughty. I think that says it.) I’m going to write a novel that incorporates mystery, comedy, whimsy, atmosphere, and some very naughty adult sex scenes. I’m excited and laughing just thinking about it, so I’m eager to get into it! And this comes at the perfect time, because I had no idea what my next big thing would be after submitting my memoir (which I’ll be done with sometime soon).
It’ll probably wind up campy as all get-out and written at the psychological level of a twelve-year-old since I’m about as prudish and unsexually aware as possible (and every time I try to dress up for an event, I wind up looking like an overgrown twelve-year-old), but what the heck? I’ve decided to fully let my freak flag fly in the wind. This was suggested to me by two good friends of mine, both of whom I suspect are trying to help me normalize the physical abuse I suffered as a child, and my bizarre fetishy reaction to it. Everyone should have such great friends! So let’s do this!
I’ve got a lot to be excited about now!
I’m going to go use my new home gym!! I hope you all are having a great day!! Oh, wait, I forgot something. My memoir’s last paragraph reads thusly:
I understand if this memoir is too risqué for you, but I appreciate your consideration all the same. Thank you so much!
And one agent rejected me thusly:
Not too risqué, just not doing much memoir at this time–better luck with others.
And I was encouraged! Like she’s saying, you’ve got something here that isn’t right for me, but good luck! In fact, all of the rejections thus far have said a variant of that: This isn’t what I’m looking for, but I appreciate your sharing it with me and giving me a look! Good luck! I think that’s very decent, because it almost reads as if they like the concept, even though it’s not what they want to represent now.
So we just gotta find that one agent. Keep your fingers crossed for me!!