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Life or Something Like It
Sep. 14th, 2008 04:25 pmNote to self: While opening a second bottle of wine always seems like a good idea at the time, in retrospect it might have been better to have practiced a bit of moderation. You never know -- you might need those brain cells someday.
Needless to say, no writing happened today.
I did spend some time on querytracker.net, laying groundwork for whenever I do get off my ass and finish the edits to Sympathy, or finish Fringe Benefits, or finish any number of projects I have in various forms of completion. In the midst of doing my homework like a good little writer, I began to question my motivations for doing so. Is it just a burning desire for some sort of validation? Do I still have hidden in some corner of my psyche the little girl who never thought she was good enough, who was subject to frequent helpings of emotional and verbal abuse during her formative years? Because really, when you look at the whole publishing industry through the cool blue-tinted lenses of logic, the thing is a nightmare. You could be fabulous and never get published simply because you had the bad luck to query an agent on a day when she came down with mild food poisoning, or you wrote something that didn't fit the current market (whatever that is, since people's opinions on that seem to change about as frequently as the latest election polls). I think all of us have read absolute dreck that somehow managed to make it through the agent/editor filter. So is any of it valid? Is it all a crap shoot? Am I just wasting time with all this bullshit?
I don't know. Being me, I'll probably keep plugging away at it for awhile longer. But I am starting to wonder if I should give myself a definite cutoff point, a chosen moment in time where I say, "OK, I'm done. I'm (fill in the blank) years old, and all I'm doing is using up some of the precious time I have left on this planet." When you're around the halfway mark on the lifespan yardstick, these concerns suddenly become more pressing.
Or maybe I'm just tired.
In other news, Erik got a motorcycle. Nothing fancy, just a used Kawasaki Vulcan. He didn't want to learn on an expensive bike, because inevitably a new rider is going to lay the thing down at some point. It does have classic cruiser styling and a nice rumble, plus a two-up seat with a sissy pad for whenever he feels he's ready to take me on as a passenger. I have to say, he does look pretty damn hot sitting on it in his new black leather jacket. And I learned something new today -- apparently I take an XXS in a motorcycle helmet. I told the sales guy that was the only part of me that was extra-extra-small, and he laughed. I didn't buy the helmet since it's going to be a while before I'm riding around on the back of the bike, but I wanted to get a feel for what was out there.
In honor of the approaching autumnal equinox, I changed my layout and also my default icon, since the blue Sarah Brightman Harem one didn't really go with the fall color scheme. I do love fall, even though it comes slowly enough here in Southern California.
I think that's about it. Now I get to go put laundry away. The fun never stops, apparently.
Needless to say, no writing happened today.
I did spend some time on querytracker.net, laying groundwork for whenever I do get off my ass and finish the edits to Sympathy, or finish Fringe Benefits, or finish any number of projects I have in various forms of completion. In the midst of doing my homework like a good little writer, I began to question my motivations for doing so. Is it just a burning desire for some sort of validation? Do I still have hidden in some corner of my psyche the little girl who never thought she was good enough, who was subject to frequent helpings of emotional and verbal abuse during her formative years? Because really, when you look at the whole publishing industry through the cool blue-tinted lenses of logic, the thing is a nightmare. You could be fabulous and never get published simply because you had the bad luck to query an agent on a day when she came down with mild food poisoning, or you wrote something that didn't fit the current market (whatever that is, since people's opinions on that seem to change about as frequently as the latest election polls). I think all of us have read absolute dreck that somehow managed to make it through the agent/editor filter. So is any of it valid? Is it all a crap shoot? Am I just wasting time with all this bullshit?
I don't know. Being me, I'll probably keep plugging away at it for awhile longer. But I am starting to wonder if I should give myself a definite cutoff point, a chosen moment in time where I say, "OK, I'm done. I'm (fill in the blank) years old, and all I'm doing is using up some of the precious time I have left on this planet." When you're around the halfway mark on the lifespan yardstick, these concerns suddenly become more pressing.
Or maybe I'm just tired.
In other news, Erik got a motorcycle. Nothing fancy, just a used Kawasaki Vulcan. He didn't want to learn on an expensive bike, because inevitably a new rider is going to lay the thing down at some point. It does have classic cruiser styling and a nice rumble, plus a two-up seat with a sissy pad for whenever he feels he's ready to take me on as a passenger. I have to say, he does look pretty damn hot sitting on it in his new black leather jacket. And I learned something new today -- apparently I take an XXS in a motorcycle helmet. I told the sales guy that was the only part of me that was extra-extra-small, and he laughed. I didn't buy the helmet since it's going to be a while before I'm riding around on the back of the bike, but I wanted to get a feel for what was out there.
In honor of the approaching autumnal equinox, I changed my layout and also my default icon, since the blue Sarah Brightman Harem one didn't really go with the fall color scheme. I do love fall, even though it comes slowly enough here in Southern California.
I think that's about it. Now I get to go put laundry away. The fun never stops, apparently.
