Dear Diascribe Faithful,

The original intention of this blog was to show the process of going from unpublished to agented to published and all the highs, lows, and bumps along the way. Unfortunately, it’s taking a bit longer to go from agented to published than originally hoped and for now I need to focus all the free time I have, what little there is of it, on writing the Next Big Thing. So…for now (and hopefully not for long), farewell.

I leave you with my latest rejections (which officially round out the list of everyone who got to see my first novel):

Dear Victoria,
I am sure that by now you have given up hope on hearing from us about THE WARRIOR’S SON, by Aaron Brown. I apologize that it has taken us so long to get back to you, as Kate left for her maternity leave there was quite a bit of manuscript jostling. I truly enjoyed this manuscript. Although we are going to pass, I wanted you to know that I loved the curious voice, the hilarious antics of Caleb and the details of his life are equally humorous and affecting. His relationship with Bigger is surprisingly touching and I wanted to continue reading. Unfortunately, I felt that the pace was too slow and I grew frustrated waiting to find out what had happened to Bigger and how it fit into the rest of the story. I felt that the rising action should have happened more quickly, so we get at least some sense of how Caleb may have ended up in the position we find him in at the beginning of the novel.
I am sorry we have to step aside, but if Aaron wishes to revise and re-submit I would gladly re-consider. I also would like to introduce myself and hope that you look to me in the future with any submissions you have.

And…lastly…from the editor who wanted it if he could only get approval…

Victoria,

I apologize for taking so long to respond, especially as I’m going to pass on this. It’s a very hard decision for me, but, ultimately, it boils down to my inability to rally the troops here. I love the story, and Caleb and Bigger’s relationship is as touching as it is quirky and humorous. It’s an epic story of a unique friendship, and I quickly found myself completely wrapped up in what was going to happen between Caleb and Bigger. Brown’s a talented writer, and he does a great job of maintaining the reader’s interest here. It is a difficult story, though, and at times it’s in danger of spiraling out of control. This presents a challenge, and while I got some great reads here, I couldn’t get everyone on board with it. The narrative goes in many different directions, and, in the end, it doesn’t all coalesce into the compelling whole that we’d like. Thanks, though, for letting me look. I apologize again for the delay. Please do keep me in mind for future projects. It seems that we have quite similar tastes, so I’d love to find something to work on together.

What to write?

I could easily write a gossip-filled analysis of the social goings-on at this year’s Pikes Peak Writers Conference–complete with names, dates, and mortal sins committed. After all, it was a weekend full of drinking, cussing, flirting, rumor-mongering, boundary-pushing, drinking, young-meat stalking, agent-and-editor-meat stalking, drinking, talk of gay porn, lesbianism, and open marriages, drinking, propositioning, ass-kissing, ass-grabbing, ass-smacking, slander, infamy and–did I mention?–drinking. And that was just Saturday night. In the lobby. Between 11:52 pm and 11:54 pm. Mostly involving Cicily Janus.

But it would be too easy to write a column about such sordid topics. Besides, I have a dim recollection that something else happened this weekend during the non-drinking time. Something involving…umm…oh yeah! I remember. There was cussing, flirting, rumor-mongering, boundary-pushing, talk of gay porn, lesbianism, and open marriage, drinking…and that was just Jene Jackson’s book pitch. Which brings me to my point: gratitude.

For the last few months I’ve often vented my frustrations about waiting to hear from publishers and getting the occasional rejection. And yet, I’m ahead of the curve. This conference included so much relaxing and ribaldry for me because, for the first time ever, I wasn’t desperately working on a pitch or scheming about how to get to the right table to say the right things to effectively make an impression on an agent who was surrounded by hundreds of fellow writers doing the exact same thing.

I was, instead, lucky enough to have my agent at the conference. Meeting her for the first time in the flesh was a great privilege and joy, reminding me how lucky I am to have her in my corner. In other words — Aaron — quit all your damn whining. And yet, I still feel wretched whenever I think of the struggles  ahead–not only to find a publisher, but also to make a book successful enough to give me a bonafide career–things which still feel as out of reach as sobriety and good judgment were on Saturday night.

Meanwhile, my still-to-be-agented-friends would doubtless lie, cheat, steal, sacrifice, kill, and give their third virginities to trade places with me. And that’s just Deb Courtney (who will no doubt be agented soon–so please, Deb, don’t kill me…as for the 3rd virginity…we’ll talk).

If I had more time, I would continue this entry with case studies of three writers at different points in their careers to illustrate how long and strange this journey is and how curiously different yet the same the perspective is from any given stage (unagented, agented, published). Since Thursday is almost over, though, I’ll just go ahead and put that off to next week.

In the meantime, did anyone see outgoing PPW prez Chris Mandeville with the Navy boys on Friday night?