NORTH DAKOTA QUARTERLY SHOWS GREAT TASTE

There I was yesterday, pretty discouraged about having the energy to keep rewriting Ghoul World, and I go home to discover that North Dakota State (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:About) has found one of my poems, IN A MODERN LIBRARY, entertaining enough to put in their literary magazine. Good for them. I've always liked that poem myself. Seventeen rejections before it found a home. You know? If you don't have a big name reputation, then you experience a lot of rejection before something hits. It's just the way it is. I keep joking with Mertie that Ghoul World will hit and movie royalties come pouring in after I'm dead.

I mean, the novel includes a future Earth, a plague, a mystery, a private investigator, corporate greed, a poison vagina (my wife giggles at the thought of it), automatons, Neanderthals (what?), necessary and acceptable cannibalism (can't be helped), good aliens, space travel, global travel and a perfectly designed planet for a great environment (Alteregoia). What's not to like? It's well written too with a minimum of misspellings and grammatical errors. It just takes an agent with a large enough imagination to take it in.

BOOMER BEATNIK GETS A BOOST

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Currently rewriting  a short story I first put on paper—yes, lined paper and pen—sometime during Fall of 1964 through February 1966 while floundering as a teaching assistant on the campus of Southern Illinois University—The Acceptance of Jane. The first version is very simplistic, almost childish, written in an emotional burst of high energy, and I more or less set it aside for 50 years. Now I'm trying to give it some depth. It's original impetus was okay, but I tried to make an image carry the story and the narrator lacks sufficient depth. Of course, the narrator is an older man, looking back on a moment in his high school life. Such a narrative offers technical difficulties. How much does any adult narrator truly know about his past life, eh?

On a good note, I received an immediate rejection of a story I sent off last week, BUT the editor said the story was well done but too long for her magazine. Could I send a shorty piece of writing, she asked. You bet I could, and the turn around time was less than 24 hours. The magazine is located in Philadelphia, and I forgot to say, "Go Philanova". Basketball fans will recognize the reference. 

THE QUERULOUS PROCESS OF QUERY LETTERS

Outside, it's a beautiful sunny autumnal day. I'm wearing a brand new pink shirt, celebrating Pink Out for Planned Parenthood day, and currently sitting at the Cascade Park Library where I just finished rewriting Chapter -29- of Ghoul World. An extremely long chapter, I took several days to complete it. Today, 143 people visited this blog. It's the biggest number to visit this Beatnik, Silent Generation Boomer's blog about an old writer whose goal is to get someone other than himself to publish one of his novels before he dies. I'm now circulating three rewritten novels to agents while completing the third rewrite of my recently completed science fiction novel. Still to be rewritten is the novel I used as my thesis for a Master's in English (with an emphasis in creative writing). It's called Delinquent Lives. Also, something is stirring in me about an entirely new novel. Who knows? I recently recommitted myself to sending out more query letters to agents. I realized that every time I enter my office, I flinch to see the 4x6 yellow cards upon which I record my queries and their results. Rejection is always a painful thing to experience. Two rejections of queries came my way last week. For the fun of it, I sent one query over the Atlantic last night to a British agent.

BEAT BEAT BEATING ON HAVEN'S DOOR

Didn't sleep well last night but hammered out the 3rd rewrite of Chapter -2- of Ghoul World today, this morning. That's all this dude has to report. About time for my walk in hazy Vancouver, surrounded by discouraging PNW fires. Tomorrow, at seven pm, as I've pointed out numerous times, I'll be the featured poet at Barnes and Noble in Vancouver. Looking forward to it. Nice of Rainy Knight and David Hill to invite me.

Got a nice rejection letter for a short story I submitted to a contest. Invited to submit again. Was it just a polite form letter or a special sort of rejection letter that was a real invite? Monetary concerns twist and distort all communications. I know the story is well done. I've worked it over a couple of dozen of times over the past decade. All I see nowadays in it are small quibbles with my language that aren't strong enough to change. They're the sort of quibbles that can go back and forth, endlessly.

THE BEATNIK BEAT UP, CRIES CROCODILE TEARS

Last Thursday (May 14, 2015), just before I went to bed, I discovered two rejections of my novel, Ghoul World, among my emails. Though I went to bed and slept okay, next morning when I awoke I had to struggle mightily to keep myself writing. I seriously imagined this book would be scarfed up fast. After some thought, I found a piece of silver lining stuck to one corner of the emails. One of the agents who rejected was one whose agency link said she didn't respond to queries and if an author didn't receive a rejection in 4 or 5 weeks, he/she should take his query as rejected. The fact she took the time to send me a friendly form rejection told me that my story idea had caught her attention enough that she read the 5 page sample. That is a good and bad thing. The idea is dynamite as I knew it was, but my writing isn't carrying the weight to clinch the deal. As I plan one more rewrite, I'm okay. As soon as I finish the rewrite on The Porn Writer, I'll get back into Ghoul World. 

SILENT BOOMER FEELING BEAT SLOGS ON

The first rejection of a query letter has arrived for Ghoul World. Last night, before I went to bed, I checked my email account and, there it was, my first rejection. It was not the rejection that was so bad, but what the rejection suggested. My single page blurb did catch the agent's attention. She liked the story idea, but she said she was disappointed. What she read didn't keep her interest. That would be the five page sample of the novel. Then, of course, I read the 5 pages, and I agree with her. I see all sorts of errors or better ways to write those five pages. I catch the blunder of using the same word in two successive sentences to describe an action. I see too many adjectives. Man oh man! What a let down. Before the rejection arrived, I did begin talking to my wife about some short comings I feared were in the novel. Not enough tension, maybe, and how do I fix that? I don't see my way clear to do one more rewrite. I don't. The fun has gone out of writing for me, I fear. Anyway, I'm going to finish the rewrite of The Porn Writer, and begin to send that around while I commence another run through of Ghoul World to see if I can tighten it up, even as I continue to send it around. Damn it all to hell!

BEAT BOOMER SILENTLY THINKS HE'S OLDER THAN CERVANTES

Chapter Sixteen rewrite of Angie's Choice still not finished. By Friday, I'll be back to one chapter a week schedule. Truth is I'm flailing the air. Mornings I awake groggy, and words are snakes that slither across the page without rhyme or reason. I rearrange them on the page and desperately try to make them hold still. The haze doesn't leave till afternoon when I take my walk. It's an old age thing...or allergies. Can't distinguish between them and that discourages me also. Wife Mertie suggests I take my walk first thing in the morning. I'm considering that.

I'm filled with second and third thoughts these days. They go like this: "Seventy-five. Christ, man, it's time to let go this madness called writing." Of course, I've always thought that way. Long ago, I surpassed Lampedusa who finished The Leopard at age 60 in 1956 and Cervantes whose Don Quixote was published in 1605 when he was 68. Of course, I'm stupidly comparing myself to legendary writers whereas my humble goal is to get one novel published by someone other than myself before I die. Even a Harlequin romance if I could see how to write one. A 95 year old, one-handed, one-eyed masturbator ought to be able to achieve that. [Why doesn't blogspot's spell check recognize the word masturbator or masturbater, I wonder.] 

My immediate goal remains to get Angie's Choice finally polished so I'll have one thing to send around (as finished as I can make it) while I think what next to do. My state of mind wasn't helped when I received the following over the past weekend:

Dear Author,
Thanks for writing me.  I apologize for the form letter, but the volume of query letters I receive makes it impossible to send personal responses to every writer. Unfortunately, I must pass on your material.  I realize it is difficult to judge your potential from a query alone, but please know that I give serious attention to every letter and writing sample I receive.
Best of luck with your agent search,
Cameron McClure     Donald Maass Literary Agency

And so it goes. And, yes, I'm currently reading a Vonnegut bio. 

SILENT BOOMER TAKES A LEFT UPPERCUT TO CHIN!

Thank you so much for your interest in Talcott Notch. While your project has much merit, I'm afraid I don't feel strongly enough to take it on in this tough marketplace. I wish you the best in placing it elsewhere.
Best, 
Paula Munier  Talcott Notch Literary Agency
 

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I always pay attention to a very interesting word in Paula's rejection letter. She writes, "I don't feel strongly enough...." From my own editing experience (and my reading in neuroscience), I assure myself that "feeling" is the only important element in every literary judgment. 

A guy like me (or a gal like Paula) reads something and likes it or not... period! Once the electrochemical computing system that runs the human body and is the human being has made that important feelingization (sic), it can generate an impressive set of  rationalizations for why I felt as it did or it felt as I did.

Of course, my feelings about each piece of writing I looked at when I edited Willow Springs, George & Mertie's Place or Heliotrope were informed by decades of reading the very best and the very worst of literature, and Paula's are based on, she hopes, what might be popular, and, later, the books that last will be the combined feelings of agents, publishers, scholars and readers...Dickens, James Joyce or Tolkien.

That's the situation as I feel it. Feelings are what motivates an agent and an editor, and the feelings of readers make a book a best seller. Feelings made a very poorly written book like "Uncle Tom's Cabin" a powerful tool in the anti-slavery movement that led to the American Civil War. Feelings!

It's the same old story,

A fight for love and glory,

A case of do or die,

The world will always welcome lovers
As time goes by.

THE SILENT BOOMER'S BEAT RACE AT UPSNDOWNS

How do I write this without my egocentric backside showing? Today I ran a race at Upsndowns. 

Our local newspaper supports a feature called "Everybody Has a Story". It invites readers to send in tales from their lives. I've sent in two and both, though recognized as talented writing, have been rejected. The first was the
reflections of a movie buff, my slow evolution as I gave up American films in the early 1960s and moved on to foreign films. The piece ended with a plug for our local art house, the Kiggins. The newsman in charge of the "Story" feature at the Columbian didn't recognize it as lowbrow enough for the readers of the Columbian. Movies... what average Joe cares about movies? He didn't put it in those terms, but it's what he communicated. The subject matter was too sophisticated for Vancouver.

Minutes ago the editor in charge of "Story" rejected, via email, the second tale about my life through my divorces, practice dating and counseling to find the current happiness I enjoy with my dearest wife. A true story, the editor, bless his heart, recognized its "worthwhile message", BUT he thought it was too shocking for the Victorian morals of the Columbian readership, though he didn't use those terms. He could be right. A passel of people live in Vancouver, Washington (not to be confused with the urbane Vancouver B.C.) who think in 19th Century terms. Okay, I get it, everybody has a story but mine are too polished. Perhaps I must lower my jib and tackle my spinnaker. Okay...whatever...I'm not a sailor.

I think old age has set in. Rejections are a part of submitting works to strangers and for decades I've lived with them, but the fact that I'm 75 going on death must be putting a hitch in my normally smooth get-a-long. BUT...here's the Ups in Upsndowns. Withing minutes—MINUTES—of firing off two ill-considered emails to the Columbian, I got an email response from a senior publication expressing interest in my query about doing some writing for them. They wanted my blog address (this one) and a writing sample. I attached my humorous essay aimed at seniors, called "Exercise and Cabbage Heads". For all I know he's reading this entry right now.

Ups and Downs, everyone!

REJECTION, SUBMISSION...AN OLD FAMILIAR SONG

Yesterday, agent Molly Jaffa replied to my query email for my novel, Angie's Choice. She parried my query with an amicable and brief rejection email thrust.

Dear Mr. Thomas,

Thank you for thinking of me for this. Though I truly appreciate the chance to consider your work, I don't quite feel that I've connected with your material enough to be the best possible agent for it. Please know that this business is highly subjective, and that what doesn't work for one agent may work perfectly for another. I wish you the best of luck as you move forward with your writing career.

Best,

Molly Jaffa
Folio Literary Management

Photo from Writer's Digest article.

So much for my thinking I sensed a like mind for that novel. The lonely business of spreading one's queries over the shrinking field of literary agents continues. Will one bloom every appear in that poisoned field again? Despair is never far away when one embarks on the nearly hopeless task of seeking an agent.

My sights are now zeroed in on Mr. Paul Lucas with Janklow and Nesbit Associates, another young face in an old agency. So many agents are young faces nowadays. Endless photos of unwrinkled, unworried faces. Does this mean that agencies are hiring younger agents to tell them what's what when it comes to younger readers? That would be the smart thing to do...a changing of the guard...which makes this old, weak in the haunches, 75 year old's task appear even harder. However, Mr. Lucas has got a nice, intelligent face, doesn't he, and good luck to him.

Meanwhile, I continue the rewrite for my novel, Delinquent Lives, with input from the meet up group Write To Publish, and I'm hoping to see one or two poems appear in a local anthology. More on that later.