The Book Process: Rejections From Publishing Houses

What does rejection feel like while on submission?

It's completing a 5k in record time and then realizing that you've only just begun The Great Wall of China.

It's rock climbing and making it to the top of the hill; when, alas, you stand and fall instantly into quicksand.

It's the feeling of falling from the Eiffel Tower and never stopping.

It's yelling into oblivion, but the words never escape your chest. 

It's the absolute worst and somehow bittersweet.

I've made it this far, but there are still so many hurdles to jump over; there are acres of unmarked territory. The unknown is terrifying.

My literary agent is hopeful and determined, and the editors who have read my manuscript have had many positive comments--which is kinda weird to me (weird in that I forget that editors are actually people sometimes).

Though their comments have been laced in sweetness, none have requested an R&R (revise and resubmit), and none have requested an offer of representation. They love the writing, they love the main character, but it's still not the "right" fit.

I find myself reading their comments over and over again, trying to find some hope.
But, ya'll, it is hard.

It's just one of those really nice rejections.

So all in all I have less than 10 rejections, which really isn't all that bad, but again, this waiting game can be horrific. 

That's all for this one.

Till next time, blog world.

The Year of Beauty and Chaos

 Somewhere between beauty and chaos there is existence. 

The seasons change rapidly, the sun runs to meet the moon, and the stars chase the hills as the earth rotates.

In the midst of that, there's me
Little ol' me.
The rambunctious me, the sad me, the overly-excited me, the constantly changing me.

There's the me that wants to write until the flowers crumble and the snow comes, and then there's that side of me that can't do anything but watch a Netflix series I've seen three times.

There's the me that wants to write this blog, and then there's the me that wants to be the best dancer in the world.

There's the me that sings in the bathroom with an acoustic to my chest, and there's the me that wants to crawl into my bed and sleep all day.

There are so many sides to me, so many different talents, so many dreams--and somehow all of that has lead me back here, to the start of my writing phenomenon, to the beginning of my beginning, to my writing daze.

Here, I welcome you all back into my life as I try, again, to enter the writing world.
I will warn you, writing friends, it is tough.
I've sent more queries out, I've tackled a synopsis, and I've even checked out more writing venues.
I have failed and failed and failed in hopes to help writers--like us--who won't give up.

I hope that you all follow me on this new journey.

If any of you are interested in my recent novel (I'll post a query soon), I've posted a few chapters on Wattpad.
If any of you are interested in being a beta/critique reader contact me through email or in a comment below.

To all of you going through seasons of writing, I'm pouring my luck out to you.

Until next time, writing friends.

Querying Rossano Trentin

Also known as the Literary Agent who believed in my dream . . .

http://trentinagency.com/en/about-us/

Here's what you should know about Rossano:

He's a top-dog literary agent from Italy. He's the founder's of Trentin Agency. According to Manuscript Wish List, Rossano represents YA and Adult Fiction, with a special affinity for literary Fiction, crime, dark thrillers, high-concept women's fiction, and contemporary YA (including thrillers).

Fun fact: Rossano was also one of the superb agents that helped Ransom Riggs (you know, the guy that wrote Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children) get Italian rights. *high-fives* As well, one of his clients was recently optioned for film!

From the man himself: "I am looking for well-crafted and compelling stories that features a strong narrative voice. Beautifully written and suspenseful works that captivate the reader with its prose and its plot. I am also looking to acquire science-fiction that explore what it means to be human in the age of technology. I’m very interested in everything about A.I. in general, and I love reading and seeing things about it.When it comes to nonfiction, I’m open to fresh and smart narrative nonfiction in the areas of journalism, politics, true crime, TV/Movie and sport."

Have you queried Rossano Trentin? How did it work out?

Yes and no. I sent my query letter to Rossano Trentin after he requested it via #PitMad. (For the full story, click here.) To my surprise, he liked what he saw and requested the full MS the next day.

What was the response time?

In full: Trentin requested my query, synopsis, and the first two chapters on September 7th. On September 8th, he requested my full MS. On October 6th, he offered representation (*insert squeals*), and on October 24th, I officially became part of the TZLA family. It all happened so fast, I still have jet lag because of it. There are moments when I'm like, "Britney, girl, you have a freaking Literary Agent. That's Crazy."

Would you ever query him again?

Ha, if I had to, I suppose I would. I honestly wish I'd heard about him sooner. (Hints to why I'm doing this post. *wink wink*)

How can I query Rossano Trentin?

You can query Rossano by emailing him at rossano@tzla.it

His submission guidelines:

"Please email a cover letter and provide a two-three pages synopsis, with ending, along with the first two chapters of your novel. Copy and paste letter, synopsis and chapters in the email body, as we won’t open unsolicited attachments. To avoid falling into spam, please begin the subject line with the word “Query”.Please don’t query if you haven’t finished your novel yet, be sure to include genre and word count in your letter, and let us know if you are sending your proposal to other agencies or publishers. Unfortunately, we can’t respond personally to all submissions, but if we are interested in your work we will certainly follow up by email within 8 weeks."


Bonus:

Follow Rossano on twitter, and send him a shout out!
Also, check out the featured post about me and another one of his new client's here. 

P.S. I thought I'd mention that Trentin represents foreign writers, too! Don't fret if you're not from Italy--send your queries his way!



That's all for this blog post--I've got to get back to editing. As always, let me know what your experiences are with these agents! Good luck with the queries!

Till next time blog world!

Writing with Depression and Anxiety

I don't know if I've ever told the blog this, but I have anxiety and depression. 

Fact: I've never been diagnosed by a doctor. Fact: I know myself well enough to describe how I feel. 

Medically, Anxiety is described as a nervous disorder characterized by a state of excessive uneasiness and apprehension, typically with compulsive behavior. (Trust me, I've had my fair share of compulsive regrets.)

And Depression is described as a mood disorder that causes a persistent feeling of sadness and hopelessness as well as a lost in interest. 

Together, the two of these can create an explosion of chaos within each other. It's like mixing two great colors together but constantly getting brown. It's somewhat frustrating. 

The thing about the two of these mental illnesses within myself is that sometimes I feel more anxiety than I feel depression, and sometimes I can't pinpoint why I feel the way I do--like why I'm happy now, but how I can be stuck in a mood two days from now.

Though I've sought help for these problems, I've found that writing is a saving grace. I wish I could thoroughly explain how writing makes me feel--the endorphins that are released--but I can't. I wish I could sit inside of your chest, so I could simply show you because I know it'd be easier that way.

But writing literally opens me up in a way that's terrifyingly beautiful--like crazy beautiful. I mean, have you ever written while in a mood? You get some psychotic scenarios, but you also get really extravagant ones, and you wonder how the hell that happened, but then you end up with an entire chapter based off one sentence.

It's completely magical.

This post isn't particularly special, but I felt the need to share my experience on writing with depression and anxiety, and how having a mental illness doesn't have to hinder you or your dreams.

Honestly, I bet you could reach the stars if you wanted to.

Here's a clip of writing from my latest manuscript, Rubatosis. Every aspect of this book is covered with my inner problems, and I'm okay with that. Everyone should be.

"She watched the sun in the distance, fading west, and she took note of how it touched every surface. Nothing was left behind, not even her eyes. It was all these small things, and she wanted to cry. Was it that bad, she thought. Was it so, so very bad that she couldn’t see? Maybe this place really did hold the key that drove people mad, and all it took was a turn and one small thing. The past moments mimicked a kaleidoscope in her head, and what she realized was that she wanted to spend this time with Noah, and she set off to find him.
Ila walked to his shack, still pressing her arms against her abdomen, and she didn’t knock when she entered the dimly lit room. Noah acknowledged her presence. He was seated on a rocking chair in the corner with his guitar in hand. He played a gentle melody, and the tune echoed against the walls and vibrated in her ears. The chord progression he chose mimicked the wings of a bird in flight, and he picked the strings intricately before he began to sing. Then he closed his eyes as the words of the song took him away to a place of serenity and heartache.
Ila sat on the ground before him, legs crossed, and she studied the shadows in his face. His eyelashes laced together; his uneven lips opening and parting to the lyrics, and his facial expressions slightly changing with the chords. She could tell that his passion for music was fueled by the brokenness inside of him, and it was one of the best things she’d ever witnessed. In this moment, he was more of the moon than he’d ever been, shining so brightly in this darkness they’d created. She had a hard time fathoming how he existed in her world. Up to this point, she had heard him sing multiple songs, but she still hadn’t grown tired of it. She was obsessed with his voice and the power behind it.
Noah rocked in his chair, moving to the tempo, and the song went on for minutes. They didn’t speak. He didn’t open his eyes, and he was relieved that he didn’t have to answer her question to where he had been the last few days. After all, there was no such a thing as a good lie."

Till next time.

The Time Boat

"Writing takes time," said I after beating myself up for the millionth time.

Because for some reason I feel like I should write a book in three months. Get it published within a year, and see my name in lights within two.

No doubt about it, these are unrealistic expectations.

But I've seen writers do it! I've seen so many talented people jump out of the time boat and into reality.

I've seen their names in lights, on billboards, and in screens.

They've done it. I've even written about it here on my blog. But what about me? What's my problem, and why am I stuck on this boat where the water never ends, I'm sea sick, and the only way out is under?

I get inspired and I write, and write, and write, until nothing. I'm drained.

My good words, the voices in my head, it mutes at once. Something must be wrong with me, I think.

And then I edit, erase, and rewrite. And I edit, erase, and rewrite. And I'm stuck. I'm STUCK.

I can't get off the freaking boat. My words are my worst enemy. They keep me where they want me. They sink me.

But . . . not really. I'm still afloat. In this time boat.

And in my moment of frustration, at the sweat of my brow, I realize something grand: real writing takes time. 

I mean, hello, I'm at sea. Each time the sun rises and sets it inspires me. That fireball in the sky gives life. It breaths words into my insides, and I'm able to write.

And when I write, it's euphoric.

It's tingly, and warm, and filling.

I savor those words in my mouth, for every little bit counts. And I want more. I want SO MUCH more! And I binge on every single word.

I feel. My words let me feel.

It is, indeed, my best high.

Yes. I'm addicted. "I'm addicted," I say.

Perhaps, that's why I can't leave this time boat anyway . . .


The time it took to write this: I lost track after an hour.

I think I'll go get some tea now.

Happy New Year!

Thursday Update

Britney, what have you been up to these last few weeks?


Honestly, I'm recovering from rejections.

Yup. I said it, r-e-c-o-v-e-r-i-n-g. 

You'd think, at this point, I'd be a tough cookie with skin thicker than leather. What's one rejection compared to the million other ones? It's all the same, right?

Exactly. It's all the same, and what sucks is that it is, indeed, a rejection. And I don't care how much anyone sugar coats it, a rejection is still a rejection and it hurts. Because no matter how hard you try, there's always someone telling you that you're not good enough. It's not right for them at the time, or he/she doesn't feel like they're the right agent.

It's a rejection. It hurts.

But I'm not going to give up. I've never been the one to throw in the towel. Ha, I guess I'm addicted to those love/hate relationships.

I must stay hopeful to survive in the business.


Other than that, I've done some painting. I haven't touched a paintbrush in years, so it felt so good to exercise other talents.

I've also been doing some good old fashioned letter writing.
Knowing me, I probably shouldn't be writing anyone any letters--especially boys and non writers. (No offense to the guys reading this.)

But sometimes, those two specific types of people don't get it, nor do they understand. And I'm just like, "Don't over-think it, just read the words! Let them sink into you. Breathe them in..."

    Then I realize that I'm just some poetic, love-struck, twenty something year-old who's obsessed with     her own words and how romantic they can be.

    More or less, I need to stay away from words.

    Yet, here I am, writing another blog post.


    Also, I can't find my Ipod, so . . . yeah.


    Welp, that's all for today, ya'll.

    Happy Writing Days!