A BLOG ABOUT MY WRITING and THE THOUGHTS THAT DISTRACT ME

Losing Hope.

I’m losing hope that I’m going to land with the agent I submitted to.  I am saddened by it – shed a few tears yesterday.  It has been two weeks, and no response.  And, it is one of those agencies that doesn’t necessarily send a rejection letter.  No response after six weeks, means a no.

I kinda wish they would say something along the lines of, we usually answer in two weeks, so if you haven’t heard by that time, it’s a no.  But, there’s a very small chance that it could take us up to six weeks, so give that long before completely giving up hope.

I’m one of those kind of people that sees something of value, and will focus on that one thing.  Sort of a putting all my eggs in one basket kind of thing.  It’s my nature, and I know the risks.  I just deal with the disappointment later.

I haven’t lost hope that my book will be published.  I’ve just lost hope that I will land this agent.

I had to laugh at myself because I imagined I would work on polishing this book and getting it published until the day I die…and Beyond.  I can see myself in Heaven carrying my pages around, scratching out this and adding that.  God would say, ” You’re still carrying around that thing?”   Then I would say, “Yes, I told you I wouldn’t give up on it.”  Then he would be quiet, realizing that I meant it when I said I was devoted to this book, and I wasn’t joking.  Then he would ask me, “So, are you saying you care more about that book that anything else, including me?”  Then I would probably have to consider that question as though I asked it to myself.   I know in my heart the honest answer would be, “No, I don’t care more about the book, what I do care about is doing something about this infliction that I have.  I keep getting ideas, imagining stories, creating characters, and bringing them to life.  It’ s not something I chose.  It’s within me.  You give people a gift – to sing, to paint, to dance, and like me, to imagine-then write.  I am embracing that.  For many years, I pushed it aside and ignored it.  That’s probably why I’m not as good as I could be.  I told myself, I will no longer deny this imagination.”

Then God would raise his eyebrows and think, That is a strange view on things.  I guess that’s the imagination you speak of.  But then he would say, “Well, if that’s how you feel, fine.  But don’t expect my help.  You need to set your priorities, you’re in Heaven, now.”

Out of respect, I wouldn’t say anything else, but promise myself to not put it first, and to listen to him, because he has been there for me in many other ways.  I would clutch my book under my arm, tuck it away, and work on it whenever I could.  I would only spend time on it when I am alone and have a few minutes of personal time.  All other times, I would do what God expects of me. When alone  I would whisper to myself,  what would I be if I just did away with this.  Because this is what I am made of.  Throwing this away would be like eviscerating part of my soul.  This story is a part of me now.  One day, someone, somewhere, perhaps in oblivion somewhere, will appreciate it.

Jacqué D. Howard

WoRd oF tHe DaY

Main Entry:scrupulous

Function:adjective
Etymology:Middle English, from Latin scrupulosus, from scrupulus
Date:15th century

1 : having moral integrity : acting in strict regard for what is considered right or proper
2 : punctiliously exact : PAINSTAKING *working with scrupulous care*
synonyms see UPRIGHT, CAREFUL
–scrupulously adverb
–scrupulousness noun

From Merriam Webster Collegiate Dictionary

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Writing Goals

My First Completed EbookNovember 11th, 2013
I will put my first Ebook on Amazon

The Background: Swamp Scene in Avoyelles Parish

The scene is a swamp in Louisiana, my home state. It is also the setting of my beloved story that I will finish one day, even if I have to take it up to Heaven in a folder with a pen. God would say, "you're still carrying around that thing?" I would nod my head and give him a humble blink, my pen and paper in hand. He would then ask, "so how are you going to get it to your audience when you're done?" I would gulp and give him another humble blink. Then I'd look down at my work and a grin would grow on my face . . . (you won't get it until after you read my book, once I do finish it. . .)
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