Sunday, February 28, 2010

Paralysis

This word seems to define many aspects of my life right now. Though I've decided to go ahead with Prince of Tricks, I'm afraid to write anything on it. I write a paragraph, then delete it. There's so much back story now that I don't know where to begin, and my MC doesn't know most of the back story herself, so I have to be careful not to put things in that she isn't aware of in her first-person narrative.

Then there's the subplot about the Prince of Tricks himself. Is there really room for that in this story? Maybe it deserves its own book. Can I pull this off? Will I be able to do either of these stories justice if I include them both? And should I really be putting time into this project when I still don't know whether the first book will even get representation, let alone a publisher?

One agent has the full, one has passed on the partial, and I have one query outstanding with no response yet. I can't decide whether to continue querying. What if the story is fatally flawed, and I'm sending out queries to agents I can never query again? Should I wait until I get the rejection on the full and hope it isn't a form rejection so I can get some insight into what isn't working? Or am I just allowing my fear to keep me from taking any action? Maybe I should work on more rewrites before submitting again—but maybe that's just another form of not doing anything.

Meanwhile, I've been wanting to get physically active again, after spending a year embedded in these books and sitting on my ass. It seems like a simple thing: just go outside and start walking. But I think about it, I mean to do it, and then I just...can't. The mild agoraphobia plays a role, I suppose, and the weather (though the rain has not been constant, so that's just an excuse). If I don't start moving, however, the writers' cruise in May is going to be here before I know it, and I'll be heading to the Bahamas unable to fit into my bathing suit. Then I'll have to go bathing suit shopping again. I'd rather cut off my pinky toes with pruning shears.

I can't even decide whether this post is worth posting. My hand is hovering over the delete button. Who wants to read this self-indulgent whinging? And why am I still sitting here at my computer messing with my blog while dreaming of cinnamon buns? I should go out and get some. But do I really need cinnamon buns? Why does every action I think of taking feel so supremely self-indulgent and wasteful that I just slip back into paralysis...which is ultimately more self-indulgent and wasteful than anything I can't quite decide to do?

3 comments:

  1. (1) I'm glad you posted. It's helpful for those of us that follow you 140-characters at time to get a full description of the hints we've been reading. Well, I say "we" but I mean "me." *I* follow you 140-characters at a time, and am grateful for the larger picture of things.

    (2) I feel similar about the physical activity. I've been leaning on the idea of "One habit at a time" and postponing activity while I learn how to reduce clutter. It's a lame excuse, but it's *my* excuse right now.

    *hugs*

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  2. Betty Blue
    Thanks for the Follows.
    Your writing sounds a long way from dull!
    I wish you good fortune with the submissions.
    I need to be rescued from the day job so I have the time to do more than sit still and work on my editing and submissions every evening.
    You think your WIP follows on from the Prince's back story. Why do I get the feeling you now think you should work on it first? Is he the truly BIG character?

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  3. Thanks, Elaine. I could do with a bit of rescuing myself. ;) The "Prince" is definitely the core of these books, but I've never felt he should be the main character for some reason. Meanwhile, I'm writing his life story, so there will be no shortage of material should I eventually decide he needs to go it alone.

    Cayswann, thanks for the hugs...you need to visit one of these days so I can get a real one, but virtual ones are good too. :)

    Really annoyed that my spam filter keeps eating these comments and I only find them when I happen by to edit the blog. Grrrrr.

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