Monday, January 3, 2011

Free to a Good Home

I feel like a serial dater.

So far, I've spent the day looking at agent-websites, rewriting query-letters, and attempting to find a match for my novel. In all honesty, it's like searching through a million profiles on Lavalife for Mr. Right (which I have, admittedly, done), without any success- I'm trying to stay optimistic, but it's not easy when the odds are stacked against us new writers. 

From most of what I've read, getting published is like getting laid- one can't get it unless they've had it, but how are those who've never had it going to get any? Of course, in the infamous (and case-appropriate) words of Moliere: "Writing is like prostitution- first, you do it for love; then, for a few close friends, and then for money." 


If that's the case, then I suppose it would be easier to just prostitute myself... I mean, engage in shameless self-promotion. As "C" (female protag K's best friend) would probably suggest: "We’ve got some convincing to do, and a little bit of cleavage never hurts.”

Way to go, C. 

Even a rejection-letter would do wonders for my self-esteem right about now.

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