Thoughts of an author

I've been proofreading my mystery novel one more time--it's amazing how many typos you find even the fifth or sixth time through. And today I sent a proposal--letter, synopsis, and five pages--off to an agent. I've queried three agents already--one that I know confessed reluctantly that he liked it but he didn't love it. We agreed that he's not into cozies but likes hard edge mysteries. He wants Ellery Queen and I'm writing Murder She Wrote. The other two agents declined to look at it, and I seriously doubt they read the proposal--it's hard to break through that circle. But I sent it today to an agent recommended to me who's web site says she handles lots of mysteries. PS: the title is Dead Space and it doesn't refer to outer space. It's made clear on the first few pages--but I'd love opinions about it.
I told Jamie once that maybe the reason I'd never sold well to NY publishers is that I didn't ever believe in myself enough to believe I could be a best-selling writer. He, who's all about self confidence, agreed. But this time I believe in that novel. I think its good. When I read a mystery, I'm delighted if I get so wrapped up in the lives of the people and their world that I'm reluctant to leave when I finish the book--and that's how I feel about this one. When I came to the final, climactic scene, I felt my anticipation rising--now I wrote that scene, so I know full well what happens. But I found the tension so strong that in the middle of reading it I got up to get a glass of wine! And now I'm already plotting and planning the second novel in the series--there's some great stuff to come. I can't figure out if working on the sequel (I've got about ten pages written and it beging smashingly with a woman confessing that she just shot her husband "in his sorry ass") is a sign of great self-confidence or a waste of time. I may go ahead and work on it until some paying job comes along. Meantime, my neighbor Sue, a most literate person though not a mystery fan, has asked to read the manuscript, and I'm delighted, waiting for her opinion.
And if this agent doesn't take it? I've got a couple of ideas up my sleeve--an old acquaintance with a possible publishing house, the first agent for recommendations of other agents. I'm not giving up. So send me your positive thoughts, please.
I took my cat to the vet today. He's 17, has been eating voraciously and yet seeming to lose weight, and his coat is not as lustrous and beautiful as it once was (he's a long-hair). In fact, his tail is downright puny, and it was once full and magnificent. I suspected thyroid--he was tested last May and got an okay on diabetes and kidneys but wasn't tested for thyroid. Today he showed early signs of kidney disease, so common in older cats, particuarly males. The thyroid comes back tomorrow but if positive, as both the vet and I expect, it presents a dilemma--the most effective treatment is radiation for $1200. I'd do it easily for a young cat, but it doesn't seem practical for a 17-year-old with incipient kidney disease. Fortunately, there are medications. Still I know I won't have him for many years and I'm sad--he's the best cat I ever knew, more loving and absolutely the most beautiful. He has a host of fans among my friends, including Carol who came, cat cage in hand, this morning to help me take him to the vet.
Whoosh, full and busy day. I think I'll go read a mystery.

Moving Off Dead Center

Today I can feel myself moving off dead center, and it's a good feeling. I decided I had stalled and read distracting mysteries long enough, waiting for the agent to reply to my proposal, a reply now some four weeks past the promised time. It was, I told myself, more than time to get proactive. I wrote the friend who had recommended the agent, and after saying she (the agent) had been out of town at meetings, he said the most telling thing: if she isn't interested in a manuscript, she tends to ignore it rather than send a clean rejection. (Do NOT ask me what I think of that practice!) So I took that as my answer and sent out a query to another friend about finding another agent who might be interested in cozies. I'm sort of feeling my way in the dark here, because I've been writing for children for so long and haven't needed an agent. I'm tired of the one who says, "You write so beautifully. I wish could seel what you write," nor do I want to go back to the one who thought I should be writing bodice-busters.
But I also repeated a query made earlier to a magazine editor and lost, I suspected, in a multi-subject email. This time I got a go-ahead, and I've been emailing sources about that article. And I started a column about Rick Riordan, Texas mystery writer turned best-selling children's fantasy author. I wanted to know how he made that jump. So I've written the background, and now I've emailrf him about a telephone interview.
I also came up with another idea for a column--your favorite ten Texas books. I have mine, though I'm easily swayed, and I've asked two of the "grand old men" of Texas letters (they might not like that description) for their lists. I'll compare, fill in, and then ask for reader response. It's fun to be working again.
But then there's that Canadian mystery on my desk I really do want to finish.
On another note, yesterday my good friend Betty retired after forty-three years as organist/minister of music at our large church, known for its outstanding music program. The service was a special hymn sing--really wonderful. A reception followed, and it was fun to stand watch over the guest book and visit with all the people I know. I'd been sort of drifting away, undertain of my role at the church, and now I know I want to continue my level of involvement--I just don't want to be Fellowship Chair any more. Finally, a group of us were invited to the Star, the North Side cafe that Betty and Don own, for lunch to celebrate. Lots of fun. And nice to see how Betty was so honored--and how happy she is at the prospect of doing, as she told the whole congregation, "Nothing!"

Frustrations of a midlist--or lower--author

Okay, I'm frustrated. Like the unemplyed who explain themselves by saying, "I'm between jobs," I am between projects. I don't know about the unemployed, but it makes me antsy, irritable, and a lot of other unpleasant things. My oldest son, Colin, said, "Read, Mom." Well, I am. I've bought and read so many mysteries that I'm sure Barnes & Noble stock has gone up. But I'm also frustrated for another reason. In late March, I sent that mystery I 'd worked so hard on to an agent recommended by friends who've been clients of hers for years and who, I found out, used to have the same agent I did until she died. The agency instructions were quite clear about what to include in a proposal, and I followed those to the letter, including what I thought was a pretty impressive cover letter. The instructions said, "Please allow ten weeks." Well, I did. But it's been well over that now. So last Sunday, I emailed the agent, not to demand a response, but to confirm that the material had been received. It struck me that it would be awful to finally inquire and have her say, "What proposal?" I got back an automatic reply that she was out of the office until the next day--Monday. So I knew the email went through to the right spot. But now, this is Friday, and I've still had no answer.
So what do I do? Email the friends who recommended her for advice? I probably will. Look for other agents? Yeah, but I hardly know where to begin. One other agent, someone with whom I have a passing acquaintance, has read the work, and he said, "I liked it but I didn't love it." He wants hard-boiled, and that's not me--we agreed on that. So how do I find an agent who wants cozy? (The agent I sent it to "is always looking for a good cozy.") I have had email correspondence with a highly successful author of Britsh mysteries who lives in Texas and who wished me well--but I hardly feel free to ask her agents name.
Now if I were Danielle Steele or J. A. Jance or any number of big-name authors, none of this would be a problem. I'd write whatever I wanted and know that someone would jump at it. And instead of waiting for an agent to reply, my agent would be calling, asking when the next work was available, etc. Do I write as well as some of those big names? No, a lot of them are much better than I am, their plots more skillful (Jamie, my younger son, says I'm poor at plotting, which is a gentle translation of what he said--and actually I was prett proud of the plotting int he mystery). But some others? Yeah, I'm as good as they are or better. It's partly a game of luck.
I could start another mystery, but that seems pointless if I haven't sold the first one. I could revise my cookbook, but I'm waiting for editorial direction on that. And I have an idea for an article and a children's book, but no one has bitten on that.
I know deep in my heart that this is a temporary dry spell and in a week, a month, whatever, I'll be moaning about all the work I have to do. But it's hard to live through these periods.
Excuse me, I have to go start that new Harlen Coben mystery I bought. Stay tuned for the trials and tributions--and maybe the triumphs--of a midlist author.