Skipping Church

I’m skipping church because my daughter isn’t feeling well. I’m not helping her to get better, or taking care of household chores so that Teri can nurse her I’m not really sure what my logic train is, but since Alexa doesn’t feel well enough to go, I kept us all home, and now I’m hiding in the basement blogging.

Okay, it may be that I’m hiding in a more general sense.

We have two lovable puppies terrorizing the house, I owe a semester schedule to my late starting class, who just handed me a truly enjoyable set of first essays (which I gave back last week), and my regular classes gave me their essays last week, which means I owe them graded essays tomorrow. I’m having to take security and file management courses for the job I start in December. Unpaid hours and days of electronic misery, upon which my new job, which won’t quite pay for the creaky Alaska Dream Home/money pit, and our weekly forays to Red-Robin where we live beyond our means, depends.

My space opera lies fallow, badly wounded and perhaps dying on the vine, victim of unkind words by an agent I wanted but who I can’t work with, and by the fact that I must re-rack my thoughts to push writing down to tier two – stuff that I like to do, but shouldn’t obsess about since there’s no sign that I’m ever going to have an income stream from that avocation. I’ve got a bunch of agent queries out, and a whole new list of potential agents to query.

I’m not processing rejections well in two ways. One, I’m not keeping an adequate tracking sheet, so I’m no longer certain that I’ve sent queries or submissions to certain presses. I need to fix that. Two, I’m letting rejections for stupid reasons bother me for weeks, when I should just write them off. A major U.S. publisher can’t even look at Zook Country because I’m without an agent, and it’s being published in German, by a small press. I got a nice note from their slushpile editor and we went back and forth on the issue for a couple passes, but it comes down to she’s not allowed to read the manuscript because somebody in Germany liked it enough to publish a couple hundred copies – even though that version is entirely in German, and my English Language rights are completely unconstrained. Then, an agent who I had really thought would like my work rejects it after a full year for reasons that make it clear he completely missed a sub-text that every beta reader I’ve had picked up on immediately.

I’m whinging. I’m at that stage where I have enough things I ought to do that I’m sitting around talking about how busy I am rather than actually doing the work. And the sad thing is, my whole to-do list would have been minor chores back when I was on active duty.