Found an old checklist from 2007, when I began shopping the novel:

Tasks to complete before shopping a manuscript:

1 ) Write a novel you would pay for. Check.

2 ) Solicit feedback from people who have no love for the concept, your writing, or your wit and hopefully know a lot more about the material than you. Check.

3 ) Receive and implement that feedback. Check.

4 ) See step 2 and 3. Check.

5 ) Revise, revise, revise. Check.

6 ) Develop a two page synopsis proving there’s a story behind that novel. Check.

7 ) Craft an engaging query letter reducing the story, and your qualifications to write said tale in four hundred words or less. Check.

8 ) Realize that the publishing world has changed dramatically in the last twenty-four months, and that step 7 need serious reconsideration.

And that’s where I am right now, working on and towards a new step 7–and beyond. What seemed unthinkable and hardly an option at all in February 2007, which is when I began and then shelved this entry, now in January of 2007 seems worth a try.

More on this in the next few days . . .

Pretty spent from the trip to New Hampshire, but a few things of note happened, none of which involved me directly. The girlfriend presented a 15 minute selection from her manuscript to her peers, then received her diploma.

Before I start gushing, all the poets in the program were quite accomplished. Possibly that approbation is redundant; very few people take the discipline to such a high level when greatest rewards are usually other than financial–unless they are dedicated to the craft. Her class was definitely skilled in creating and delivering verse.

But the girlfriend . . . wow. She laid that fucking podium down. Beginning with a straightforward and poignant piece, she progressed into some light humor, and then explored some very serious themes. It was dark; it was scary at times; it was masterful. And the dynamic came full circle, and she closed with an incredibly upbeat and positive piece about love in the Garden State. When she finished, the entire audience was spent.

Well, almost everyone in the audience. A very special member made her accomplishments even sweeter.

After the reading, one of the most notable poets of the last thirty years told the girlfriend to send her manuscript along for reading.

Yeah. That’s my girlfriend. A-mazing.

On the cusp of the morning, I’m stepping into the weather event of the year like an actor moves past a curtain before the audience. And for not money–which is usually why I do most anything. Oh, I’m kidding about the unrepentant materialism. Sort of.

No, there’s truly a higher purpose at work at here. This journey through inclement weather is for love. The girlfriend completes her terminal degree on Monday. Years of effort culminate before her loved ones and peers, which includes some very famous poets. I won’t drop names. They are big, though. I know enough about poetry to be impressed.

Allegedly poets and novelists mix badly at gatherings. Sort of like orange juice and gasoline. Add the right amount  of Styrofoam to the mix, and the resulting combination makes for a great defoliant–though its all rather toxic for those scrambling at ground zero. Perhaps the volatility reflects the essential rivalry between the two forms; performing either well means acting at cross purposes.

Good poets encapsulate the essence of humanity within a page, while novelists unintentionally–and for some by practice and design–say little of real consequence in four hundred.

Can’t speak for any other novelist, but I get along with my poet just fine.

I’ll be back on Wednesday. Unless New Hampshire or New Jersey is under an avalanche.

After much thought, here are my 2009 writing resolutions:

1) Implement the marketing plan for The Last Track and allow for any outcome.

2) Complete a decent draft of the new novel.

3) Enter the new novel in three high-quality contests.

That’s it. Best of luck to everyone in 2009!