And now, a brief rant in a not-much-anticipated second attempt at iambic pentameter.
Deign, if you will, to hear my humble mind:
In the depths of those who look to you, sow
only that which brings light, else be enshrined
in culpability – because we know
Work. Craft wonder, limbs wing weightless on air
But mind your rule, for you are naught alone
A signal, a plea passed over; you dare
surge on? Of course: what matters but your throne?
What is broken sums beyond stars and sand
without your negligence, your apathy
Yet showered with praise and glory you stand
while we mend and shed tears of empathy
But we know – we know. And I pray you’ll rue
that it was you, it was you. It. Was. You
Sat up late last night double-checking cover letters, brief synopses of varying lengths, and preferred formatting of sample chapters before sending submissions of my more user-friendly novel, Missing Exhibit – the young adult/fantasy/psychological drama one as opposed to the not-so-young-adult/fantasy/maybe a little sci fi/psychological drama one, in case anyone was wondering… – into another six UK literary agencies.
Not exactly a relaxing evening, but a hopeful one.
I’m still surprised when I sit down for a spot of nervous editing (this is most of the time right now when I sit down to do anything remotely writing relating – just can’t focus on newer projects at the moment… and that’s getting kind of old) when I find most of it reads pretty well. I like it, and enjoy reading it over. Almost a year after finishing Missing Exhibit, for the most part, I’m still really happy with it. I like to think that’s a good sign.
So I maintain hope that this novel will eventually stand out from amid its fellow slush. It only has to stand out to one person. Just one. That’ll be more than enough, for now.
I look forward to the day this unknown, but already much revered and appreciated literary agent can help my stories stand out to others, too.