Getting ripped

I have officially had my query letter ripped by the Holy Evilness and his muttonchops. My first reaction was: "Wow! My query is an embarrassment."
After a few hours, and a few minion comments my second reaction was: "Holy Smokes, I am such an amateur!"
Even with the bashing I feel the saws and jaws were necessary. The constructive criticism I received was enough to show me some of the problems. The hard part is fixing them.

The biggest lesson(s) is not letting the teeth shred your body, maintaining your leather skin, and keeping an open mind.

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."- anon.

Working hard or hardly working

 I have been toiling away at my latest attempt of a book. No clue if it deserves a book status or if the topic should be downgraded to short story. We shall see!

Till then, I have to ask if writing of any kind is working hard or is limited writing hardly working? Some writer's view themselves as hardworkers by measuring the number of pages, scenes, or # of words written in a day. I view writer's hardwork as more quality than quantity.

The quantity of the pages seems redundant, and while you may have 50 pages of material in that Word doc., it could all be the biggest load of crap ever submitted to the pile. On the other hand 10 pages of great quality work, that provides a strong emotional reaction, could be the beginnings of a bestseller. The biggest problem is finishing it. ;)

Word of the day: Quality
Definition: high grade; superiority; excellence

How do you decide love?

Love is in the eye of the beholder or at least it appears that way. You could think of it in terms as one person's junk is another person's treasure. In terms of a novel, when do you decide if you love it or not?

Is it after you catch a glimpse of the cover art and title? Is it after you read the brief, hooking paragraph on the back cover? After the first 3 chapters? Or when you finish the book having either laughed aloud, sobbed through the last 20 pages, or yelled at the main character for being an idiot?

I would say in all my years of reading, the words, "I love this!", come after the finale- never before. I have to read all the pages to know if the book really has me hooked. The cover and title may be interesting, the back cover catching, the first 3 chapters alluring, but the end tells me if the whole experience was worth my money.

This philosophy is present with the music I choose to listen to, the movies I watch, and the other forms of media I submit myself to devoting time to.

For those who decide the fate of something prior to the end miss the magic, romance, or horror that unfolds in the middle and the revelations at the end.

The phrase, "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet", has no meaning if you have never read Romeo and Juliet.

To truly love something you have to experience the entirety not just a little tidbit.

Monday Monday

That classic song by the Mamas and the Papas says it all. If only the word 'sucks' could have made it into the song. I guess us 9-5ers are naturally programmed to hate Mondays because they bring a close to our glorious weekends.

Though Sundays are officially considered recovery from Party Hearty Fridays and Saucy Late Night Saturdays. I must admit there is no allure to hauling a size 12 butt out of bed at 7am on a Monday morning, throwing that same lusciously plump body into the shower and then attempting to charge around the house for a good 15 minutes gathering the tools needed for the work day. Drive a traffic logged 8-10 miles to work with the other tuna shoved in cans, and then proceed to spend 8 wonderful hours increasing the spread of carpal tunnel of the wrists responding to emails and a variety of other challenging, enjoyable tasks.

I know it sounds wonderful, hence the announcement:

Hear Ye! Hear Ye! From now forth Mondays will hereby be referred to as Wish I Could Stay In Bed Days.
No, scratch that!
If The World Ended I Would Not Care Days.
Nevermind that one either!
I'm stumped, but open for suggestions.

Post your suggestion for the new name of Mondays to the comments.

I'm a little LOST

After reading an article about the series finale of Lost, which is airing in a couple weeks. I finally took time to try to re-trace what Lost was about. When the series originally premiered I was captivated. As the episodes continued throughout the first season I got LOST! The show was abandoned and I ceased to understand what was so intriguing to the awe-struck masses. Needless to say I reached a state of profound confusion.

So, I attempted to re-acclimate myself with the show, like attempting to get involved in a book that you previously had turned away from. Following an hour of reading synopsis' of all the episodes, I am still LOST. The time jumping, large amount of characters, and never ending senseless drama make for an extremely LOST in translation television show that makes no sense to me.

Now this is not to say that those who are die-hard fans are wrong in their never-ending worship of the expensive, and elaborate production. I applaud those who are able to find interest in something that LOST me entirely.

I do however feel a need to raise a valid question: If LOST had originally been a book, not a television show, would agents or publishers be grabbed by a confusing jumble of plots, characters, story lines, and time jumping? Or would this brilliant idea have been LOST in the slush pile for eternity?

Bada Bing! Bada Boom!

Today I rise, fully aware that my position amid the bottom of a large slush pile may never change. Though faced with enormous odds, I will continue to become more than the sum of my commas, periods, and random interjected semi colons.

My lack of editing skills will improve along with my grammar abilities. The words like, dude, and slightly will disappear slowly from the pages as I fine tune my prose.

Words of the day: Witty! Engaging!

These are two things I desperately pursue in my quest to win partials or even *gasp*- a full manuscript.

Until then I will write here, there, anywhere. Until at last my slush rises through the dripping, oozing queries amid the pile.

Here begins the Rise of the Slush!