Spring break began today, which means no students for two weeks. Which means I tackle the runoff issues a change in Daylight Savings Hours caused. Though I like my job a great deal, stressed out teenagers do try my patience, and the prospect of a two week stint at home seems to elevate their stress levels.

Things are going very well. On track with my queries, maybe even a week or so ahead of schedule. After great reflection, I have revised a New Year’s resolution. Originally, I planned to enter twenty writing contests. All of these were very distinguished affairs, and I’d be proud to win, place or show, honorable mention in any of them. But there were two contests that really mattered to me more than the rest, so I decided to focus on them exclusively and set the others aside for another year.

The first is a screen writing competition, the most prestigious one in the United States. Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about screenplays, and this morning I reread one I wrote three and half years ago. It needs a little bit of editing, but I actually still like it, both in concept and in execution. For me that sort of sentiment is unusual, because unless I have polished something with great precision, the more time passes, the less I enjoy the finished product in the rear view mirror.

Although it works, I am not entering the nearly four-year-old screenplay, however. I’ll revise the piece as a warm up, and write a brand new one. Since I think and plot in visuals, and by nature favor dialog and action to narrative, if the right idea strikes, I can move pretty quickly in that form. And the right idea is the one I was willing to set aside The Confession for–a concept envisioned as a short story, novel or screenplay. I’ll just run with the screenplay for now.

Five winners receive a substantial cash prize and a series of pitch meetings with studio personnel. A nod which would look pretty fantastic on a query letter.

The second contest beckons the unfinished novel to step forward. While First Chapters required a complete manuscript, and I was in no position to finish The Confession in six weeks, this contest expects the novel to be undone. The winner must finish the manuscript they entered within nine months of acceptance. Sounds like a good fit for The Confession.

Odds of winning either contest are roughly a thousand to one.

Either way I get some writing in, and put it out there.

Thursday marks the opening night of a student theatrical production. It’s amazing to me that a group of teenagers catapult from ground zero to a polished performance in two and half weeks. And that time frame includes building stages, sewing costumes, blocking and all rehearsals. Pretty incredible.

I stayed late tonight for dinner–one benefit of a boarding school employment, free meals–and forgot about two important letters for my New Year’s writing resolutions sitting in my trunk. On the plus side, The Last Track landed as planned so the professional proofreader may begin the tear down. Definitely looking forward to her feedback and the inevitable corrections. As much as I want this book out there, I still like tweaking fine details; I’m not sick of the work part yet.

The good news is that her efforts can move in parallel to the submission efforts. Whatever fixes necessary will be in place long before a full manuscript request comes in, and if they are not, I’ll just have to make them happen. In the meantime, the query process continues.

A few responses returned from the most recent query round in the past day, one which of is affirmative. More on that in a later entry.

Given that I’m conducting this campaign entirely via post–no email queries here–I’m floored at the reply rate; it far exceeds my expectations. Barely two weeks into the process, and fully a third of the agents I queried responded already. Since this is a very elite pool–and small, the tally stands at less than two hands worth of fingers–I’m casting into at this time, any response is encouraging, because it either delivers closure, or an opportunity.

A few years ago, I suspect email made more sense for the initial contact, but that was before the general disdain for electronic communication began. I see people trusting email less and less these days. Spam changed the rules, and a note from strange addresses can so easily jump to the bulk folder, either by a quirk of the software filter or by habit.

Or maybe they just really do prefer paper in NYC.