pies in the sky » Aspiring Mama

Dear Future Agent,

I have a secret to share. It may shock you.

Then again, probably not.

See…(and this is kind of embarrassing to admit)…but (deep breath) I. Am. Not. Famous.

I’ll give you a minute to digest that little piece of information. Because really, the Holy Crap factor was probably enough to knock the wind out of you. You know, while you laughed at me. So I understand if you need to compose yourself.

Right now, dear Future Agent, you are probably asking yourself why you should give a damn about me and my Regular Peeples status. Or not. After all, we haven’t been formally introduced yet. Or perhaps we have and I just haven’t quite convinced you yet. So in reality, you are probably busy cycling through your inbox while fending off off over-zealous writers with good intentions and big dreams who may have sent you cookies instead of a properly formatted query letter, wishing it was five o’clock so you can get home and pop the cork on a bottle of wine, skip the glass, and stick a bendy straw in there. You know, after you have served the kids dinner. (I’m going out on a limb here and guessing you will be a mom. And if you are doing that bendy straw thing, we are soooo a match made in heaven.)

But back to the me Not Being Famous and why you should care thing. You see, before I find you I have to be told to keep looking by others. “This is a subjective business…” “Other agents opinions may differ…” “What doesn’t work for me may be perfect for another agent…” Oh wait. It’s been three weeks and two days. Which means I can cross too more off my list. I know my query is solid (maybe). I know my writing has promise (right?). I know I will not be a word-diva when it comes to revisions (which I think is major bonus points, yes?) I could focus on the fact that I just got turned down again or I can remind myself that these two passive rejections are playing their karmic roles in getting me closer to the day I find you. But instead, I think I’ll focus on the fact that my (solid) query is missing something. That my (promising) writing isn’t even going to come into play for many of the agents who shall come before you because of that pesky little platform thing. And seeing as I don’t really have one to stand on, why ask for more if I don’t have enough to get me past Go to collect my Monopoly money?

You already know, dear Future Agent, that Non-fiction and Strong Platforms go hand in hand. That there is plenty of rhyme and reason for the current system. I get it, too. But I have to admit that the whole situation kind of has me in a pickle similar to the Gotta Have Credit to Get Credit situation I found myself in when I was young and stupid enough to jump on the first credit card offer that got me a free T-shirt on my college campus; I’m not famous enough to garner the attention of many agents looking for famous enough people to garner the attention of publishers looking for people famous enough to sell books. So they have (and will continue to) take a pass on me. No matter what they may think of my writing or my claims that my old job, this blog, and my twitter addiction could be considered a platform.

And that’s okay. It sucks. But it’s okay.

Because one day, you will take a chance on me. And I’ll do that little happy dance every writer does when their own future finally slows down enough for them to grab hold. And then I can dream bigger and work harder (while trying to remedy that Not Being Famous thing while taking breaks from that working and writing thing, of course.) Until then, I’ll continue to nurse my bruised ego, marvel at the fact that the girl who was so unsure of herself has grown into the woman who is sure enough to continue this soul-crushing exercise as long as it takes, and wait.

I may not be famous (enough) yet, but I’m stubborn as hell. Which means I’m not going to let my cute little platform (or lack thereof) get in my way.

Sincerely,

I recently read a BlogHer post by Renee J. Ross that got me thinking. She talks in depth about her public weight loss, the struggle, and the light at the end of the tunnel. She’s successfully lost quite a bit of weight and I applaud her.

She’s not the only one. There are countless women I could name, including Leah Segedie, Bookieboo.com founder and Mamavation Grand Mistress (that’s my title for her). The site and twitter hashtag are a source of support for moms trying to get fit and Leah is a great example. She’s lost a crazy amount of weight and uses her story to inspire others.

So where’s that leave me? Not on the winning side of the scale, but that’s a different blog post. Or maybe a chapter in my book.

And therein lies the dilema.

I started the blog the same day I started my book. I’ve wanted to write a book for an insanely long time and have had plenty of time to research the ins and outs of going about the business that comes with getting that dream off the ground. And I went in knowing that traditional publishers aren’t exactly going to do the happy dance when/if they get to reading your manuscript and find the entire thing plastered all over your blog.

So the plan from the beginning was to make the book the story of my weight loss attempt journey and the blog my mama-writer journey. I put a few snippets up here and there—little bits of the book—to give you an idea of what isn’t going on the blog, but for the most part I am doing my damnedest to make sure I don’t make my life harder whenever I get to the agent/editor/publisher portion of this little pipe dream.

Now, if this had gone another way and I had just started a blog first, gotten the attention of an agent, and had the Great Oz make all the rest of my dreams come true, too, this all may have gone a bit differently. I might be sharing more on Bookieboo. I might have gotten past the “Should I or Shouldn’t I?” and tried to win a spot in her Mamavation campaign. I may have vlogged more about my results for more accountability. I may have reached out for more support.

I maybe should have lost the weight first. And then written the book.

But then I remind myself that my goal from the beginning wasn’t to flash a number at The End and call it a day. It was to reach out, connect, and show anyone who picks up the finished product that success on the scale isn’t the only prize to be sought. Yes, it is an important goal. And one that we should continue to strive for. But the continuing to try part? Despite the craziness and obligations of motherhood? The getting up every morning after a hellacious day before and a hellacious day to come? I want moms to read my book and know that trying is a reason enough to feel good about themselves.

I know I could share more. But I really shouldn’t. And it’s not that I’m holding out. I’m just saving the juicy bits for the book.

And I can say that on my blog without blurring too many lines.

So I will.

That’s me in the background.

On the left, I’m in my paternal grandfather’s arms.

On the right, with my mother and maternal grandmother on the day of my baptismal.

That’s me in the foreground, too. Or at least, that’s what The Husband said on the day I picked up the little figurine in a gift shop years ago, smiling because I have a thing for teddy bears.

And this one was going to town on a typewriter.

I was just out of college and the proudest new city editor at a little community paper that’s ever walked the earth. But even then, I had dreams of becoming more.

He bought me The Writing Bear that day. Because he believed in me and my dream long before I did.

Lest any of you think I can talk smack without ever looking into a mirror and owning up to my own mistakes, it’s time for a revelation.

I fucked up.

I’ve been thinking about this post for a long time and have put off writing it again and again. Not because I can’t bare to admit I crossed the line drawn in the sand, but because, well…I can’t bare to admit I crossed the line drawn in the sand.

The story goes like this:

I was high on finishing my book proposal and scrambling to get a few blurbs from writer friends. Since I’m pretty close to sending out some queries and starting that whole process, I also figured starting the search for that elusive foreward written by Someone Famous would be a good idea and might pad my proposal in my favor.

So I sent a few emails. Made a few calls.

No harm, no foul.

Everyone I contacted initially was a friend. Someone who I had already developed a solid relationship with going as far back as my first tweet on the Aspiringmama account.

I got feedback. I also got a few pretty awesome blurbs.

Then I got cocky.

I had recently connected with a Famous Writer on Twitter and was thrilled to see conversations developing. I’d been on this Famous Writer’s site and was familiar with the Don’t Send Me Your Unsolicited Work to Read clause. It made total sense since Famous Writer has deadlines and their own work to worry about.

Looking back, I wonder how I let myself believe I was going to be an exception. I was not friends with Famous Writer. I wasn’t even an acquaintance. I was just a new comment in the Twitter stream; a new fan happy to see another example of Dreams Having Come True.

But there I sat with my finger on the mouse. I had written an email thanking Famous Writer for their communication on Twitter and asked if Famous Writer would be willing to read a few sample chapters for a possible blurb and perhaps that foreward I was hoping to snag. My breathe caught in my throat. My finger was shaking.

But I hit send anyway.

TBFF Juliette thought I was crazy but was kind enough not to say so out loud. I laughed off her doubt by convincing myself that Famous Writer and I were destined for a real connection and that the worst that could happen was a simple “no.”

I was wrong.

I received a form email a few days later from Famous Writer’s assistant spelling out their policy as stated on the web site and nothing more.

I wrote back, thanking the assistant for their time and waited for what I was sure wasn’t going to come.

And I was right.

Since that original email was sent, the twitter conversation has all but stopped. I’m not blaming Famous Writer. The way they probably see it, little to no responses to me are probably best; kind of like how you try to cut off communication with the sweet but weird guy who won’t stop calling because he doesn’t understand that you really just want to be friends.

I’m embarrassed, not to admit the aftermath. But that it happened to begin with.

I pride myself on what I know about what writers need to do to get published. I’ve done my homework when it comes to every single aspect of what order to perform each and every step and am very proud of the honesty on which my relationships on twitter are based. I know knew that there are professional lines not to be crossed when socializing on outlets like Twitter. I know that what I did was stupid. And hate that there isn’t a Take Back button I can hit.

I’m writing this for the newer writers reading my blog. The seasoned ones are most likely smacking their foreheads wondering what kind of Stupid possessed me when I Hit Send on that email. But for those just getting started?

Go slow. Nurture the connections that you’d like to see develop into true relationships. Don’t overstep the boundaries.

We all have something to learn on our journeys.

This just happened to be one of my lessons.

I’m knee-deep in netbook accessorizing hell (because really…it *is* an accessory). See, I specifically chose a black hp Mini because it went so well with the Chloe Dau clutch netbook sleeve I’ve been eyeing. But because my mind didn’t grasp the concept of a 6 cell battery working wonders for cutting my ties to the nearest wall but sucking it up when trying to fit said netbook into said clutch sleeve, well, I’m back to square one.

I’ve settled in a pretty and practical Golla sleeve (to keep my new baby safe from my other baby) after driving everyone I know bonkers. And because that damned 6 cell is in my way, the plan for fitting the mini in my pretty Fossil purse I got for my birthday is totally out the door.

So really, people, you can see how I’m being forced to shop, yes?

***

@aspiringmama: I *need* a lucky brand messenger tote to carry my new netbook for my writing conference. NEED, dammit! Why can’t men understand this!?

@ing3nu: perhaps if you hit him in the head with the net book it would all become clear ?

@aspiringmama: hmmmm….interesting tactic.

@ing3nu: It rolls under that whole “show don’t tell” writers’ meme

***

Sage advice, my friend. Very sage advice, indeed.

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