Working for the Man

Sleep has been a big issue lately, and I’ve been trying to figure out why exactly. My official theory is that it has something to do with waiting for the agent to respond.

When I queried actively, it was easy to get some kind of result. For instance, let’s say on a Monday I queried agent A. Usually an answer came back anywhere from 31 minutes ( the fastest ) to 48 hours. There were a few agents that took more than a week.

I’ll never forget the 31 minute turnaround time for one rejection. Or my first rejection which took about 48 hours. But at least it was quick and it was only based on the query letter. It’s hard to take that kind of no personally, because it’s only a pitch they are saying no to.

Only now an agent has enough of the novel to make a decision about representing it or not. A no at this point is a little different.

So I’m stuck in limbo for the next couple of weeks, not sleeping so hot.

Chopper sick!

Fifteen years ago George Carlin did a comedy special for HBO What am I doing in New Jersey? I had no idea that someday the same question would be staring me in the face. New Jersey has a bad reputation in the press as this tough talking, backstabbing, mother-raping kinda state. And that’s the treatment you get from your family. People who you don’t know? Fuggeaboutit.

Does NJ deserve such a black sheep reputation? I’ve had about eleven years off and on to ponder this sensitive matter. What follows in scenario to illustrate the difference between NJ and Kansas, another state I used to live in.

The scenario is a lone man walking to the convenience store along a busy road. A car full of lost tourists pull alongside the lone man.

In Kansas
Tourist: Hi, we’re lost. How can we find our way back to the I-435?
lone man: Hi! Isn’t this great weather we’re having? I-435 ? No problem all you have to turn right at Metlars lane, go about 1.8 miles and then bear right. You can’t miss it.
Tourist: Oh thanks so much. You have a nice day now.
lone man: Golly gee, you too! Enjoy your vacation. Drive careful for the little ones.

Now the same scene in NJ
Tourist: How do we get to the Turnpike?
The lone man continues walking.
Tourist: Excuse me, where’s the Turnpike?
Slowly the lone man turns his head, still avoiding eye contact. He does not stop, instead forcing the car to continue forward at 3 mph.
lone man: What do I look like a welcome committee?
Tourist: Sorry to trouble you officer.
lone man: So don’t.

How often does that happen?

I’m driving along yesterday and since this is New Jersey, I make it roughly 29 feet into the journey before someone cut me off. It’s a residential area, which in NJ means the speed limit is optional so feel free to drive like you’re on the Turnpike. No problem really, because I got power everything.

When I hit the brakes, I also lean on my old friend “beep” the horn, so I can let the other driver know how much I care about them. Nothing severe just a little tap. But when I jam on the horn there’s no comforting beep.

I got no beep! This is a great tragedy.

Beep and I go way back, way back to November 2000 when it came into my life. It was the first thing I tried on the test drive. That horn was always there for me. Whenever someone cut me off, beep let them know. When the guy fell asleep in front of me at the stop light reading the paper, beep was there. When the woman ahead wouldn’t stop fixing her lipstick and talking on the cell phone, beep was there too. When the Lexus can’t seem to stay in it’s lane, beep sent a stern reminder that the dotted white lanes are for driving in between, not over or on top of.

I wrote a song for my mechanic Jake, who assures me that my horn will rise again.

Bring back that beeping feeling.
Bring back that beeping feeling cause now its gone, gone. gone…

Come on no whammies!

Editor person has heard my plea, we are meeting Thursday when they return from business. Curse the day job!

I’m still in a holding pattern with the agent. Is no news good news? I’m not sure. If I knew I’d be an agent, not a writer looking for one.

I’ve read that an agent can sell a book in as little as 1 week, or it may take as long as 1 year. Even if I signed with an agent today and they sold the book quickly, Mike Brody would not be in print until Spring or Fall 2005. That sounds weird since he first saw the light of day in October 2002.

But then what else can I do except keep writing?