Waiting. Waiting sucks! I can wait on the fate of my YA novel, currently in submission at a number of great places — the feedback my agent and I have gotten so far is hopeful, so fingers crossed that Something Good Happens — but the fate of the Bloodangel sequel is something else entirely. A friend who used to work in the literary department of a huge New York talent agency has explained to me why it’s unrealistic to expect an answer from my publisher in less than eight weeks, but as time ticks by I think to myself, Jesus. Did the numbers come back on Bloodangel and they just absolutely SUCK and I shall be kicked to the curb?
I wish I could be one of those writers who merrily plunges ahead with all kinds of sequels and sequels of sequels while their first book is still looking for an agent, much less a publisher, but alas. I always want a Plan B. In this case, Plan B would be to take aforementioned sequel and its sequels that are mentally forming even now (there are at least two of them) and reinvent what I’ve already written into a new trilogy of some kind. It would be fun to get post-apocalyptic, for example. Because here’s the thing. I’m driven to tell this story, more now than I’ve ever been. There are other stories I want to tell, but this one — this long, still unfolding one — I need to tell first. Now. Before the others.
The writing mind is a strange little beast. Thanks, I tell it. I could’ve used this focus and urgency a little earlier, you know, so I wouldn’t now find myself in this highly unpleasant gap in the publication pipeline? I don’t like this gap. I don’t want to be in it again. I feel like I’m getting left behind. (More than one ex-boyfriend has accused me — either to my face or to mutual friends who then informed me after the breakup — of being “competitive”. Personally, I never thought so — at least, not as competitive* as they seemed to be making me out to be — although I have noticed that I ended up married to one of those brilliant-alpha-male-with-killer-instinct types who would never worry about me being ‘competitive’ or regard it as some kind of liability. Life is odd that way. But I digress.)
Still, I can’t regret taking the space and time to write the YA novel, or letting the BA sequel develop into what it’s currently becoming. (And I do want to write more YA fiction — although, be it YA or Adult, I plan to stay in the supernatural/fantasy genre for a long time to come).
I don’t know how this is all going to work out, but I need to ease up on the jitters.
When I’m writing — when I’m moving the story forward — I’m fine. I feel good. All is right with the world.
Away from the writing, I get trapped in a bad little neighborhood in my head, and I have to come here and post stuff like this….
*I was working towards my black belt in tae kwon do at the time — which I finally achieved the summer before my final year of university — and this had an interesting impact on my dating life.