|"What's with the Viking helmet? |
I don't think novel-writing is that manly."
- Jacob Mercer
I've been thinking about participating this year. I have a novel idea that is almost fully outlined. I know my characters and what they're thinking. I've always thought it would be fun to participate in NaNoWriMo and just pound out the words as quickly as possible. Don't overedit. Don't belabor the point of chapter one. Move along swiftly and with purpose. Devote time each day to creating your own little world. (If that sounds right up your alley, sign up here.)
As cool as that sounds, I've actually changed my mind about NaNoWriMo.
I've decided instead to dedicate November to LitAgLetWriMo. Or Literary Agent Letter Writing Month. (Yes, I just made that up.)
I already have a book that needs to be published. I've been threatening to set it on fire. I've been threatening to just post it to my blog and say, "Here it is, you fuckers! Just read it for free while I enjoy this delicious bowl of ramen noodles!"
I have been mean to my little book. So I am going to show it some love this fall.
I have taken a significant break from writing the non-responsive bastards of the literary world and it's time to get back to it. Much like dating, seeking an agent is full of hope and heartbreak and people who seriously should have learned how to kiss a long time ago. I mean, what are you doing, trying to swallow my head?!
What? Potential agents don't require a pre-representation make-out session? Uh oh.
This is like that time Joey found out the truth about tailors.
If you're a writer with a book proposal or a completed manuscript, join me for what is certain to be a discouraging, disheartening, disappointing, dismal month of ups and downs, a month of being ignored by folks who wouldn't know a good book if I came up there to New York and beat them about the head with one.
People like to use the analogy that you can't win the lottery if you don't buy a ticket.
I'm not buying a ticket for the Lotto here.
I am practicing hope. I am putting time and effort into believing in my book. I am putting time and effort into not letting the bastards get me down.
I am lighting a fire.
I am hosting a backyard bonfire where I will burn copies of books by anyone named Snooki or Kardashian or E.L. James.
I am roasting marshmallows over the flames. I am smashing those marshmallows in between chocolate and graham crackers.
I am serving them up with red wine.
Smells like S'mores and hope up in here.