November 12, 2022
I got caught in a whirlwind in the past week. Sucked in, spun around, spit back out.
It started with a simple Facebook post commemorating Lung Cancer Awareness month, which, if you didn’t know, November is. I posted a LUNGevity image on FB (which I have pretty much abandoned since lung cancer); a former student left a comment about losing people who never smoked to lung cancer. We continued our brief exchange in Messenger. (In case you want to see for your yourself, don’t bother– I’ve removed this post from my feed and this person from my friend list.)
I knew this student had become a literary agent. I messaged her back, saying I had a blog and that another friend had suggested I reach out to see if it had the potential to be a book. Not long after I clicked Send, a response appeared: “Your blog is superb!” Then, within a few minutes, I was asked to email a paragraph of description and a potential title. Not long after that came a message that she was pleased to offer me immediate representation at the Wonderful Literary Agency and all she’d need would be my address and phone number so she could send me a contract.
I did the paragraph and other items and sent them along. More emails followed in spatters, each telling me one additional thing I should send. I’m generally good with tracking and responding to email, but this was slowly turning into a situation that called for advanced email filtering. I set that up. Then, like a grownup in a grownup relationship, I sent an email asking two simple questions, adding a comment that it would be easier to get her what she needed if I could receive her requests in one email.
The next email I received: “This is my style of working. We might not be compatible. I am sorry. Best,”
I followed up briefly, and this email appeared: “I am sorry. It isn’t going to work out….”
WTAF? (See this post for translation.)
I felt like I’d been kicked. That wore off pretty quickly– I’d had so little time to get used to the idea, after all– plus DH and a good friend both pointed out I’d probably dodged a bullet.
Still, I was curious. I poked around the web for reviews of her as an agent. Lo and behold: a detailed description from someone who experienced a process very similar to mine, including being ghosted by Ms. LiteraryAgent. I always feel relieved when I find proof that I’m not the idiot. (The true idiot would be Ms. LiteraryAgent, in case there’s any confusion.) (Please note my admirable restraint in this characterization.)
There’s Always a Lesson in Lung CancerLand
Let’s say you’ve got a life that has some parameters that are different from most peoples’. Let’s say you’ve done a little thinking about what makes a meaningful life in the face of those different parameters. Oh, you have? Good! Let’s lay out what you know and see how a new circumstance matches your thinking.
Yeah, I didn’t do that. Instead, I kinda slid right into the Ways of The World: Cool! Write a book? Me? ME? You Betcha.
Never mind that writing a book proposal is a lengthy, involved process, that selling a book to a publisher is a lengthy, involved process, that writing said book is (yes, you guessed it) lengthy and involved. And that the editing of said book with the publisher is too. Key words here: lengthy. Involved. Implications: Time, lots of it. Stress. Hard work. Critique that may not always be kind. Deadlines. Did I mention stress? That’s Number 1 on Dr. Radiology’s top ten list of Avoid At All Costs.
On the off chance you’ve overlooked the realities above (ahem) then you might consider selections from the Criteria for a Meaningful Life, such as:
- What is the potential for joy, or the opportunity to be creative, or the opportunity to make a contribution to someone (or ones);
- What is the possibility of positively engaging my mind;
- Is there beauty?
- Is there kindness?
If I applied these questions to Ms. LiteraryAgent and me, I’d have to have been braindead to not instantly answer, “Run away! Run away! ” That work dynamic would be a train wreck on endless loop.
Like, who has time for that?
Who’d be willing to even tolerate that?
Not me.
Except I sort of forgot to consider the questions above– which are, er, my questions. Nope, me and my ego just leapt into the convertible, put the top down, and went for a joyride.
It’d be dramatic to say we immediately crashed the car– we didn’t. But in the calm between lung cancer squalls, it turns out I’ve been learning to tune into less raucous parts of my mind than that ego. These less raucous parts aren’t easy to hear in the world’s fast lanes. But once you start to listen…. The joyride got old fast. It simply didn’t resonate with what I now find to be true.
So. No book.
Send that ego to the corner for a time out (or should I get the time out, for participating so happily?)
Thanks for reading. Here’s hoping that if you go joyriding with your ego, you go FAST and have a little fun.
P.S. Here’s the latest from Frosting School, for a 4 year-old in love with the Hulk. (The Hulk is hand-rendered in buttercream.)
