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June 22nd, 2006

I posted yesterday. And now it’s gone. What did I say again? I wonder…

If I try to repeat myself, it’ll magically appear when I check tomorrow, and then I’ll have to delete or edit. Or I could give up and start over.

This is about par for recent events. I am in the query stage again, with a new book, and looking for an agent. Strangely enough, actually selling one book is not followed by universal acceptance by the rest of the publishing world. This means it’s rejection season at Casa de Dos Quesos.

As usual, I’m calling on my background in the theatre to make the experience a bad performance art piece for the rest of the family. They are a captive audience as I provide a Baskin Robbins 31 flavors of crazy on any given day.

There’s the: “No one use the phone! I might get a call…” (basic crazy)

The “I don’t mind rejection, it’s the waiting I can’t stand, if someone hurts me, at least I’ll know I’m alive…” (melodramatic scene)

Which is followed by the “Oww. Ok, I’m alive. You can stop rejecting me, I’m alive, already. Oow ow owwwwwwwwwww.” (misc. whining)

And the oldie but goodie: “Go ahead everybody. Go ahead and eat. I’ll put the vegetarian pizza in last, because NO ONE LIKES IT BUT ME!” (Which is a two-fer combination of mother guilt and writer insecurity).

Since I sold in England, this year I’ve added: “I’ll probably never sell in America. No one will ever know me. But I’ll be huge over there. Huge, I tell you. I am the David Hasselhoff of romance writers.” (paranoid megalomania).

The whole thing is topped with a layer of hypochondria, as I am convinced that, not only will the next book not sell, but I’ll probably die before I see a copy of the first book. (Seriously. My ankles are swelling. It’s either the salt in the nachos I ate last night…or heart disease…I don’t know…or maybe I’m becoming my mother…she got swollen ankles right before she went insane…and does this mole look funny?)

I need another rejection like I got last summer. I was told I read “too young.”

I’ve been waiting for those rejections where I read “too rich” and “too thin” but they’re still not here.