I just need to share my own frustration over myself here, so join in, kids!
I'm trying to do everything I can to sell the novel and be on the paying end of writing in long format, but you wouldn't know it from my actions. For instance:
The main manuscript I'm selling is a contemporary paranormal fantasy, a sort of urban noir lite.
So although I didn't end up going to the NY Comic con this past weekend, I had the opportunity to to go out for drinks from 4:30 to 6:30 pre-con with a work colleague, the B&N scifi/fantasy buyer and Jim Butcher, author of the now-a-tv-series The Dresden Files. It would have been just the four of us. So what do I say when I'm invited?
"No, thanks, I've got plans."
No, thanks, I've got plans... yep. That's what I said. It wouldn't have been so bad, except I really didn't have much in the way of plans other than going home after a long workday on Friday and sitting my ass down to relax. So why did I say that? I have no earthly idea, except to think I clearly don't want to succeed. I mean, Butcher is a hair away from the type of book I right for fuck's sake... and the B&N buyer just happens to be making his buy on the DAW anthology I'm in for August. In every conceivable way, I feel like I shot myself in the foot on this perfect opportunity.
I suspect I'll be kicking myself for quite some time over this. I'll keep chugging along. I've got an editor-in-chief and two agents with the manuscript now, so I'm not slacking, but I find my lack of rolling with the big boys is best summed up by my icon, who is speaking directly to me.
I'm trying to do everything I can to sell the novel and be on the paying end of writing in long format, but you wouldn't know it from my actions. For instance:
The main manuscript I'm selling is a contemporary paranormal fantasy, a sort of urban noir lite.
So although I didn't end up going to the NY Comic con this past weekend, I had the opportunity to to go out for drinks from 4:30 to 6:30 pre-con with a work colleague, the B&N scifi/fantasy buyer and Jim Butcher, author of the now-a-tv-series The Dresden Files. It would have been just the four of us. So what do I say when I'm invited?
"No, thanks, I've got plans."
No, thanks, I've got plans... yep. That's what I said. It wouldn't have been so bad, except I really didn't have much in the way of plans other than going home after a long workday on Friday and sitting my ass down to relax. So why did I say that? I have no earthly idea, except to think I clearly don't want to succeed. I mean, Butcher is a hair away from the type of book I right for fuck's sake... and the B&N buyer just happens to be making his buy on the DAW anthology I'm in for August. In every conceivable way, I feel like I shot myself in the foot on this perfect opportunity.
I suspect I'll be kicking myself for quite some time over this. I'll keep chugging along. I've got an editor-in-chief and two agents with the manuscript now, so I'm not slacking, but I find my lack of rolling with the big boys is best summed up by my icon, who is speaking directly to me.


Comments
Seriously, I think it's okay to forgive yourself for this one. Nobody can be "on" all the time. Some days you just need a break. This might or might not have been an opportunity for something useful to the career, but either way, it's not the only opportunity you'll ever get.
My response was nearly verbatim to yours.
I got not clue, doll. All I can say is that the brain must know when it can't handle schtuff like this, when opportunity's knocking on the wrong door, mayhaps?. Or at least that's what I've been telling myself for years now. It's worked...so far...sometimes. ;o)