By Caitlin Kelly
Like many of you, I’m pooped!
We’re coming up on a year of the pandemic and I can’t see getting access to a vaccination for months — even as Jose and I newly qualify.
I’ve been trying for months to find an agent who wants to represent my book proposal. I’m extremely frustrated at how slow this process is and how it feels like begging for attention — it is — even after having already sold and published two books with major publishers.
The fantasy is that agents are cool, smart, helpful.
Some are just…really rude. Like the one I was referred to a few years ago, at a fancy New York City agency. I described the book I hoped to produce and he warned me not to be…shrill. For Christ’s sake.
Then the one this year, also referred by a friend, who hadn’t even bothered to look at my work or realize I had already published twice before.
The lack of respect is appalling, fed by the thousands and thousands of people desperate for a book deal. It’s not pretty.
There are a few ways to find an agent. If you have friends who write in your genre, and are generous, several will offer you a referral to theirs, who may or may not want your book or not be a fit. Or you go find books similar to yours and see who the agent was the author thanked and try them. Or…cold pitch strangers.
None of which is quick or easy or fun.
I’ve also been facing a battery of medical tests to determine why my blood has excess iron. Turns out I have a genetic mutation that causes it but still have to have an MRI of my liver to make sure there isn’t another reason as well. The solution to the former is 16th century — blood-letting!
And I have been trying and trying and trying to lose weight, starting with intermittent fasting November 1. I see my GP Feb. 23 and will see what progress, if any, this has made for my health.
Add to this pile ‘o stress the loss or fading of several friendships.
I know COVID has affected many people, if not their health, their attention span or ability to spare time for others. But it’s hard to go through this much stuff all at once without people to talk to, so I’ve been over-burdening my husband. I very rarely cry, but it’s been a time of tears here recently.
And none of this, objectively, is terrible.
No one but me cares if I sell this damn book
Only my GP cares if I lose weight.
The liver issue won’t require surgery.
And we are very lucky to have work and savings and no one else dependent on us, as so many are.
But I’m cooked.
Only after writing it all down, getting it out of my head, did I realize that trying to manage three damn difficult things at the same time — each of which is slow as hell and anxiety-producing and the successful outcome of which is, to some degree, beyond my control — is so tiring.
Yes, I’m impatient!
I work my ass off and I’m generally used to succeeding,
I loathe failing.
Like everyone, I hate medical surprises; I had no clue my liver was weird. No symptoms. This all showed up thanks to a routine blood test.
I really hate grovelling to find an agent — meeting repeated rejection — watching everyone crow on social media about their book, movie and TV deals.
Sorry if this is all too tedious or whiny,
But it’s where things are right now.
How are you doing?!