It's been an interesting week thus far. My hypochondriac father has decided he's dying. He FINALLY quit smoking after 50 years and a bout with lung cancer 5 years ago. He doesn't understand the reason he feels so awful is the nicotine withdrawals. He's been to every doctor in his HMO over the course of the last two weeks and he swears they don't care about his predicament. There is nothing wrong with him. Every x-ray, cat scan, MRI and every other damn test they've done on him has come back negative. They've been telling him for months he has to get out and WALK. That's all he has to do, and he refuses. Oh, the curmudgeon is driving us all over the edge.
My hot water heater blew up last Friday morning. I finally had it fixed on Monday, however, I still had no hot water as of yesterday morning. Justin, the little plumber, showed up at noon on his lunch hour to play with the reset button and the breaker panel yesterday and YAY, I could finally take a shower and do the dishes. Good thing too, I had one plate and cup left clean for Monster Baby. (Bet you thought I was going to say I stank. We did shower at my folk's house.)
I'm still picking up from the tornado. More than likely, I'll still be picking up next spring. I also finished filling in the massive hole in my backyard. YAY! Hopefully, next summer I'll be able to ride the lawn mower straight down the backyard instead of riding around in circles.
I've also sent out the first 3 of my queries for NaNoQuerMo. I'll tell you what, now I know why I've been stalling. It's scary stuff man. To think after all this time, I might have a shot at landing an agent. (Not that I'm conceited or anything, it'll only take one rejection to bring me right back down to earth...) But I like my book. I like my story. A lot of people do. If an agent does and requests, I think I'll probably pee my pants. This query go-round has so much more at stake than it did last year with MASQUERADE. This is the big time, probably my last shot before I have to find a real job. Like my brother used to say, "This ain't no behbee's game."
I decided to bring all my agent "stuff" with me yesterday when I sat in the pick-up line for Monster Baby and got myself a manageable list of agents. When I got back home, I went online and looked up all the agents and their web-sites. I then made another list for those who rep women's fiction and historical romance. Then, I wrote the list in order of who I want to be my one and only agent extraordinaire.
Which, I think, any of the three I've queried so far would be terrific. I know I shouldn't have queried the top three first but, I like to shoot the moon. Hey, you never know right?
Why does the telephone always ring right when I'm in the middle of a big scene? Not that I answer the phone between the hours of 8am and 1pm but I have to listen to the machine to see if it's my parents. Why do the dogs bark at someone or something in the yard right when I'm thinking of the most fantastic line I've ever composed and I have to get up and see what or who it is? Why does my stomach growl when I've finally figured out the best way to end a scene but haven't written it down yet and by the time I get back with my PB&J my mind is a blank?
Could someone please tell me why I'm a writer? Wasn't life easier when I was a chef?