It was 4 am this morning when I woke in a funk ~ panic & tears, oh my.
Did I say it right? Were the words correct? Are there too many paragraphs? Is it resonating for crying out loud?!! Did I forget something important like plot?
Yes, I'm agent shopping. I've gotten 3 or 4 rejections in as many days and I'm crying ~ so full of senders remorse. I mean, come on! How do I sell a miracle? How do I convince total strangers that I hear Angels? That these Beautiful Mighty Beings not only speak but they record around me so the world can hear them? This is all they want ~ plus a few other things ~ but they want to be heard. They chatter constantly around me.
"Finish the story. Let the people hear us."
I have a whole choir in utter excitement that maybe today will be the day the story gets told; the story gets sold. That someone else gets excited besides our little world of bliss.
I mean, I get it. I understand the whole agent process. I've been down this road before trying to sell a fiction story some years ago. But this is different. This is not only nonfiction but it's not prescriptive nonfiction. Which means, according to the definition generated by the publishing world, prescriptive kinds of books sound pretty much like the Rx counter -- serious matters from serious scholars that cover serious topics. In other words -- books that don't tell a story but do a lot of telling. Go figure! More contrarium. It works for some books but not imaginery ones. We've teethed on "show, don't tell" instruction from every Creative Writing class and workshop ever taken -- but now, oh my, we're expected to "tell" what the book is about in a query letter to woo agents and editors. BUT the wooing has to be contained within parameters that vary from shop to shop, house to house, person to person. Guidelines are enough to give any creative mind a rustle from bed and turning on the light for the boogieman.
And though the fact that my story has Real Angels from Heaven, talking about Heaven, and Jesus, Joseph, Mary and Magdalene, that crazy conflict they had with the devil and his demonics, something about Saint Peter, this is not prescriptive nonfiction but it's pretty damn serious!
How oh how -- what oh what -- do I have to do to convince the publishing world I'm not crazy? That these are not voices in my head 'cause if they were they wouldn't be in my tape recorder. Heck, they could happily hear the Angels' voices themselves if they just took the time to call me up, send me an email, make an appointment -- I would skip to ma-lou bring my laptop & the exquisite proof they need to shed Light where the dark's too thick. They don't have to sign me but geez -- at least be curious enough, through my eloquent query letter, to try a sample listen.
Or what is it, since I can hear Angels words, the first EVER that's supposed to indicate I'm now the walking dead? 'Cause you can only hear Angels just before you pass from this world? Maybe so. I certainly feel invisible. . . except to the Angels. They and God see me perfectly fine.
Just let the Angels be heard and then decide. The miracle of who they are holds not an iota of doubt in their voices. It will bring a grown man to tears without watching his team lose the Superbowl. I'm just so frustrated. There are yet some 'friends' that used to be because they couldn't understand my passion about Angels' voices either.
So now that I have a place to vent about it, I'm marching on. I will continue to knock on doors. I wiped the tears from my cheeks this morning at 4:30 am when I heard God's voice come to me in the dark. He assured me once again that He entrusted this miracle to me because He knew I would know what to do with it. Yea, I can hear Him, too. I can blog about that another day.
So please have faith all you agents out there. I will find the right one that truly believes in miracles.
(and now the rain just whipped up, pouring like buckets full of whitewash outside my living room window where I'm working with the Mighty Light piercing through the clouds. this is not a dark and gloomy rain but a Lighted one continuing to keep me from the dark.)
Did I say it right? Were the words correct? Are there too many paragraphs? Is it resonating for crying out loud?!! Did I forget something important like plot?
Yes, I'm agent shopping. I've gotten 3 or 4 rejections in as many days and I'm crying ~ so full of senders remorse. I mean, come on! How do I sell a miracle? How do I convince total strangers that I hear Angels? That these Beautiful Mighty Beings not only speak but they record around me so the world can hear them? This is all they want ~ plus a few other things ~ but they want to be heard. They chatter constantly around me.
"Finish the story. Let the people hear us."
I have a whole choir in utter excitement that maybe today will be the day the story gets told; the story gets sold. That someone else gets excited besides our little world of bliss.
I mean, I get it. I understand the whole agent process. I've been down this road before trying to sell a fiction story some years ago. But this is different. This is not only nonfiction but it's not prescriptive nonfiction. Which means, according to the definition generated by the publishing world, prescriptive kinds of books sound pretty much like the Rx counter -- serious matters from serious scholars that cover serious topics. In other words -- books that don't tell a story but do a lot of telling. Go figure! More contrarium. It works for some books but not imaginery ones. We've teethed on "show, don't tell" instruction from every Creative Writing class and workshop ever taken -- but now, oh my, we're expected to "tell" what the book is about in a query letter to woo agents and editors. BUT the wooing has to be contained within parameters that vary from shop to shop, house to house, person to person. Guidelines are enough to give any creative mind a rustle from bed and turning on the light for the boogieman.
And though the fact that my story has Real Angels from Heaven, talking about Heaven, and Jesus, Joseph, Mary and Magdalene, that crazy conflict they had with the devil and his demonics, something about Saint Peter, this is not prescriptive nonfiction but it's pretty damn serious!
How oh how -- what oh what -- do I have to do to convince the publishing world I'm not crazy? That these are not voices in my head 'cause if they were they wouldn't be in my tape recorder. Heck, they could happily hear the Angels' voices themselves if they just took the time to call me up, send me an email, make an appointment -- I would skip to ma-lou bring my laptop & the exquisite proof they need to shed Light where the dark's too thick. They don't have to sign me but geez -- at least be curious enough, through my eloquent query letter, to try a sample listen.
Or what is it, since I can hear Angels words, the first EVER that's supposed to indicate I'm now the walking dead? 'Cause you can only hear Angels just before you pass from this world? Maybe so. I certainly feel invisible. . . except to the Angels. They and God see me perfectly fine.
Just let the Angels be heard and then decide. The miracle of who they are holds not an iota of doubt in their voices. It will bring a grown man to tears without watching his team lose the Superbowl. I'm just so frustrated. There are yet some 'friends' that used to be because they couldn't understand my passion about Angels' voices either.
So now that I have a place to vent about it, I'm marching on. I will continue to knock on doors. I wiped the tears from my cheeks this morning at 4:30 am when I heard God's voice come to me in the dark. He assured me once again that He entrusted this miracle to me because He knew I would know what to do with it. Yea, I can hear Him, too. I can blog about that another day.
So please have faith all you agents out there. I will find the right one that truly believes in miracles.
(and now the rain just whipped up, pouring like buckets full of whitewash outside my living room window where I'm working with the Mighty Light piercing through the clouds. this is not a dark and gloomy rain but a Lighted one continuing to keep me from the dark.)
