It’s been a long week, my nerves are shot, and I have no longer have any polite filter left. So enjoy my rant. If you need me, I’ll be hiding in the closet, curled into the fetal position.
Having to write a query letter is completely unfair and unspeakably horrible in every way. I am completely toxxed out on internet advice about the process. I am so sick of hearing about the STAKES, the freakin’ stakes, what are the stakes, what are they??? It’s fine if you’ve written some big, flashy, science-fictiony zombie novel about the end of the world, ohhhh, high stakes, but if you’ve written a character-driven novel in which the stakes are purely personal, you’re hosed. The world isn’t going to end if your character doesn’t get what she wants. Therefore, the book that you stupidly poured your soul and two years of your life into is worthless. Sorry I didn’t write a novel about the zombie apocalypse, a global nuclear war, or the extinction of all life on this planet. Next time, I’ll know better.
I don’t understand why I have to write a sales piece for my novel anyway. I wrote an entire novel, for God’s sake. I finished it and edited it and everything. But now, because I can’t seem to write a query letter, I’m going to be washed up. This effin’ query letter is going to be the end of me. And as much as I appreciate the feedback I’m getting from online forums, I can no longer stand it: More detail. No, less detail. More specifics. Fewer specifics. What are the stakes? Arrgh! The stakes are that I am going to commit hari-kari if I can’t get this stupid query letter finished. I swear to God, I would rather write three more entire novels than to have to write one single query letter. Who the hell created this process anyway? I’m putting the system on trial, people. There has to be a better way.
I usually go grocery shopping on Friday nights, when there is less traffic and fewer people, but I was too exhausted to go last night. So I decided to be clever and do a combined grocery/Christmas/husband-birthday shopping trip at Big Everything Store today instead. It turns out there were NO PARKING SPOTS anywhere, and it was pouring down rain and deathly dark outside and people were driving like idiots and I decided screw this, and I turned around to go to my normal grocery store, and again NO PARKING anywhere, and I got really mad and just came home and told Mr. Typist, forget it. No groceries this week. I can no longer submit to the indignity of circling parking lots for thirty minutes at a time in a monsoon, waiting for a spot to open up so I can fight the masses to buy a bunch of crap to shovel into my face in a never-ending cycle of consumption. I’m done. It’s Taco Time and instant coffee for the rest of the week.
To add insult to injury, I set up a new Pandora station to listen to while working on my latest writing project, and they tried to play a Beatles song, which enraged me. I’m furious with the Beatles because they completely ruined the water aerobics class at my local pool. Water aerobics instructors have no musical imagination, so it was just all Beatles music, all the time, and it threw me into a rage about how unbearably smug and self-satisfied baby boomers are, even though they single-handedly destroyed the American economy. My entire water aerobics class was spent mentally gnawing on my bitterness, because of the stupid relentless Beatles music. I know it’s trendy now to hate on the Beatles, but I hated them before it was popular. They have exactly three songs that I like. The rest of them I find incredibly grating and overrated. And I don’t think they’re the geniuses everyone makes them out to be. So I quit going, purely so that I didn’t have to listen to any more depressing Beatles music. Thanks, John Lennon.
God, I’m cranky. I think I need some vitamin D. Which I could purchase, if there were any open parking spots at the grocery store.