2005-07-20

So Kelly H. at Avon/Harper Collins never got back to me after trashing Dirtytrashysecretnovel #1 with her receptiveness to me sending her Dirtytrashysecretnovel #2. I waited a month and am still on the hunt for a literary agent (eight rejections in, kids. Not one of which will actually read the novel before sending me a "Dear Author" form letter). But since Kelly H. hasn't gotten back with her "send it" or her "leave me alone, bitch" email, I'm moving on... or back.

Some time ago, I might have mentioned an Abby Z. at Harlequin. If I didn't, I will now. She liked Dirtytrashysecretnovel #1 and passed it on to her boss, who passed on it altogether.

Abby Z., being an angel in human form, decided to help me out by sending it to a friend who worked at a rival publisher, which was Kelly H. at Avon/Harper Collins.

And Kelly said she "liked my voice," but there were too many "trappings of small-category Romance" that kept the book from "screaming Avon." By that, I think she means cliche.

Don't look at me like that! It was my first novel. I'm working on it.

Anyway, decided to feel out Abby Z on Dirtytrashysecretnovel #2. And you know what? She liked my synopsis. She said it sounds different. and that WE should give it a shot. By that she means we're like a team, like best friends, which means she'll definitely publish me. Wouldn't you publish your best friend?

Okay. Calm down. Can't get the hopes up. But, seriously, this year has been shitty beyond belief. Can't one measly good thing happen? Dear God. Dear Abby. Save me!

Maybe the book getting published isn't measly enough. I should shoot lower for success. I know. I want to find that lost pair of jeans that disappeared to parts unknown. The ones that make my hips look less like they're taking over the world. And, while you're at it, publish the book.