On Today's Menu -- Pizza, Spinach Pies, and lots and lots of beer. (Be warned, this post is not for the faint of heart.)
Boy Howdy, if I ever needed a drink, today would be the day. There is nothing I would like better at the end of this day than to settle down with a large pizza and a couple of spinach pies from "Twins" (Mineral Spring Avenue, Pawtucket, Rhode Island) and a six-pack of Coors Lite bottles that have been sitting on ice all day. (Unfortunately, I'm 14 hours from Pawtucket and I haven't had a drink in 7 years.)
I knew the contractors would mess up again and let me tell you, if you thought my mother was pissed about the hole for the dishwasher, she's ready to scream now. They fixed all the stuff she told them about on Monday. But they really screwed up BIG this time. My father built a cabinet, with a tiled top that was supposed to be the centerpiece of the new kitchen. It's beautiful. The tiled top is removable and has a 1/4" bullnose edge that hangs over the cabinet. The contractor took the top off and fit the cabinet to the wall. He did not leave room for the 1/4" gap. Which means, when he fixes it, that whole corner will now stick out into the dining room. I thought my mother was going to cry. And that is something she does not EVER do.
In other news, (which is why I really need a drink) I found an agent who had just requested single title Regency romance on her blog. So I sent her mine. With my revamped query and first 10 pages, which she wanted. I got a rejection today. A form letter which basically stated -- I don't represent this genre. Can I just say, WTF??? Why do they post what they want and then say they don't want it. Is it because there's no sex, or no vampires? Tell me, just freakin' tell me, instead of lying to my face with a freaking form letter. (And the first ten pages have a killer first line, the inciting incident and the first of the internal and external conflicts, everything "they" say you're supposed to have.)
Can you tell I'm just a little crazy today?
I also have to cut the grass again. At both houses. Since the last time, my right knee has been giving me a lot of pain. I mean, really, a lot. Like I should probably go to the doctor because I think I really screwed something up. (I have to push mow the big hill because I can't use the lawn tractor.) Can I say again -- WTF???
Is it National Let's Kick Anne's Ass Week???
I'm sorry, I really am. I don't usually rant and rave on my blog, but I just had to get this off my chest. I haven't been writing, well I have, but it's not going as well as I like. I'm trying to fix MASQUERADE and what was supposed to be semi-easy is turning into a nightmare. I have no interest in any of my other stuff. I have no S.N.I.'s to take my mind off my old stuff. This writing thing is really starting to wear on me. Three years, three books and nothing. I know, I know, I've heard it all before, it takes time, the market sucks, agents are picky. But it's just so damn hard. It's wearing on me. It's eating at me. The rejections hurt more and more. My writing feels forced, and if I do manage to hit 1000 words I think they all suck toads. My confidence is gone, I have absolutely no desire, I just don't think I can do it anymore.
I don't know, maybe it's the pain in the knee (not sleeping that's how bad the pain is even with extra strength Tylenol), maybe it's because I put so much hope into the partial for REMEMBERING YOU, maybe it's the fact I know I'll have to fix all the holiday's the contractor left behind. I'm at a crossroads. Somewhere between a rock and a hard place.
I really don't want sympathy. I don't even want to be consoled. I don't know what I want, and that, my friends, I think is the hardest thing. I ALWAYS know what I want. (I really, really want a drink, but I can't have one.)
And you know, this is kind of lame after all that above, but really, truly, from the bottom of my heart,
Have a Happy Mother's Day.
I promise I'll be better on Monday.