I spent the last five hours sending out 12 more queries. This business part of the whole thing is tough. When I wrote my first book, I wrote simply because I had to write. Then I wrote my second book because I had something else to say. I looked at the two books (which I'd written in a year) and thought, "I should just get them in print so I can have a written record in case my computer dies"--which it did.) And now I've written book number three. Again, it was written because I had to write it. The ideas buzzed around inside of me. But this time, I'm determined to have someone who isn't related to me or my friend find some value to what I've written. I've put too much of myself into it to keep putting it aside and moving on. And I have moved on. I've started my fourth book with a good friend of mine. A non-fiction story about her incredible son and family.
The point is, if I'm going to continue to pour my soul onto my keyboard and spend my precious and few spare hours to this solitary and relentless gnaw, then I at least want to know if it's worthy of reading. Hopefully one of the dozens of agents I've queried will at least send more than the cursory, form email.
Pity party over. Back to the (other) love of my life--words.