Blew the last week in a funk stewing about being in time out, wondering when some news might come back about the manuscript, before I realized the sentence was self-imposed and unnecessary. Blame a personality defect, I guess. In general, I’m all right at waiting for long periods, but have a much harder time wandering blindly with no cues — and no mechanism to glean cues — about what someone might think.

Tired of watching me toss and turn, The Wife made an interesting offer: keep writing just as before, only hand off manuscripts to her and she’ll deal with the aftermath. I’ll have no idea what agents she targets, when or where she submits them, and what they say, etc. One hundred percent of my writing time would be spent writing, revising or implementing feedback, zero percent canvassing markets. Very reminiscent of Dean Koontz, who I believe works this way, a proxy submission method spares me the part of the process I dislike the most.

I have no problem going over a manuscript again and again, no issue soliciting and implementing feedback from readers. The thousands of hours alone at the keyboard? Heaven. Pitching a concept to someone, even cold, works for me; I’ve done it before. Allowing someone space and time to respond, I can handle. I can sit tight. Really, it’s all lots of fun to that point. What snares me up is the tendency in business of passive answers. That is, those uninterested in a project tend to answer by not answering at all, a rejection in disguise. At that juncture hearing the no is really irrelevant, I just like closure. “Pass” or “Nope” scrawled on the first page is sufficient.

Understand that I do not personalize reactions like that; it’s fairly common in any business to avoid contact that could get ugly. The tendency might be a little more acute among literary agents whose livelihood stems from creating and maintaining relationships. When the world is full of possible gems in the sea, every second is critical to them, and time spent saying no takes away from time spent searching for the writer to say yes to, or actually doing the job of negotiating good deals for their clients.

So I understand the response, or non-response, that is. Why invest time in discussion that is its own end? There’s people I haven’t spoken to for years because we last parted on an odd note. I probably would speak to them, should I run into them, and they might share a similar thought, but neither of us are seeking out the other. And perhaps we never shall.

At its heart, my want reflects a control issue. Spazzing out about a non-answer is no better than getting pissed about an outright rejection. Which is why the Wife’s offer is so appealing. If there is a way to smooth out an obstacle, albeit one I created, I should consider the possibility seriously.

And that’s about where I am…looking forward to another writing session, pretending not to count the days until May 21.

Are seven out of ten morning commuters on Quaaludes, or is it because I drive sober that the weasels seem so spastic? Lately if there aren’t at least three misses on the way to work, I wonder if I’m even in the car.

Managed a simultaneous panic attack and heart burn flare up before reaching campus — a new medical event. For me, the issues generally erupt at different times. Both come with unique symptoms. When panic strikes, my pulse quickens; I breathe more frequently. Sucking too many breaths in a short period mean much less air reaches the lungs. And a lack of oxygen definitely aggravates the duration and severity of attacks. One feeds the other, ad infinitum, or until I calm down.

Heartburn is another beast. That’s more about discomfort than anything else, shooting pains in the esophagus, and what can feel like the chest. Both heartburn and panic strike whenever, but they always do so separately.

The morning’s episode changed the game play. Panic sent the heart charging to Baskerville, but the acid weighed down on the chest and limited the amount of breaths I could manage. Which is a big change from too many breaths crowding out the few quality ones. Here the culprit was not breathing at all.

Anyway, thirty ounces of cold water and ten minutes of silence dampened the symptoms quite a bit.

Crossing campus this morning I found a fox statue in the quad. Yep, it’s field day! Which means all kinds of activities and merriment instead of classes. Perfect weather for it, too. The sky couldn’t be any more clear.

Fighting the urge to email agent and ask if he had a chance to review the manuscript. Fighting…

The Sentinel typifies the disease that Hollywood has lately, in that audiences — the very people the studios believed could never tire of half-baked, thrice recycled ideas — expect a movie to suck and avoid it. Or at least they do until reviewing the Internet rumors. When news of poor ticket sales hits the mainstream, even more potential viewers make the wait for DVD rental or catch it on an airplane without renting the headphones decision.

This cycle makes for carnage at the box office, and it’s a real shame, because the Sentinel is actually a decent movie. My preconceptions proved well placed. Expecting nothing, I got entertainment.

The story focuses on a Secret Service agent at odds with his environment. In the twilight of his career, he finds himself enmeshed in a conspiracy to kill the President. For added tension, he’s also servicing the First Lady. Secretly. Michael Douglas does well here — even for an old guy. And boy, face lift or not, the heir to Kirk is showing his age. No matter, though. Overall, this is a competent thriller.

What works:
1) If you like the TV show 24 or Tom Clancy movies, this story is for you.
2) Pacing - action never stops.
3) Concept - we have seen tales of betrayal at this level before, but this more than an Air Force one rehashed; it feels fresh.
4) Ending - reasonable and acceptable given the characters and story arc.

What needs improvement:
1) A few moments of MTV styled shots and production values I could do without, but otherwise the film works.

The dual teams evaluating the school present an oral report in a few minutes; they make their official findings available to us in a few weeks.

Having lived through this process, it’s not that the task or assignments are insurmountable, though there are definite challenges. No, the discomfort comes from the constant scrutiny, which puts the staff — normally very relaxed individuals — on edge. Everyone is a professional here though, and I await the presentation with great interest.

And of the return to a normal schedule, I shall celebrate most of all.

If the rumors about Opie and Anthony’s return to commercial radio are true, then the bad boys of radio have come full circle. From outcasts — CBS banned them a little over a year ago — to conquering heroes, I read this as another sign of weakness in the subscriber based radio markets. If XM and Sirius are doing well, why license out sanitized versions of O&A to a willing bidder, unless the need for cash is so great that where it comes from is less important than what it says to the market place. Because when you’re drowning, no point worrying about sharks tearing off your swim trunks.

I’m a big O&A fan, loved their show when it was on commercial radio, and did not follow them to XM. But if they air again on FCC regulated radio, I’ll surely listen without signing up for the pay service. In fact, a “clean” version of O&A is a major disincentive to subscribing, as what was once free and available, is so once again.

Good for O&A. Hopefully they get two paydays from this — so far — rumored arrangment.

The manuscript is on its way to New York. Join me in a brief good vibe transmission. And release that thought, and let go of outcome. Ahhhh. Much better. With any luck this is the last mention of the situation for the next few weeks.

Sorry the entries are short lately, but between the last minute preparations and the accreditation board meetings at school this week, I’m wiped by blogging time. Life gets normal again next week.