my meeting with the literary agent

I just finished the first in a series of anti-prayers. Woohoo!!!!! I also just started researching how to get an agent. So let's say I snag an agent. The conversation might go like this:

Conversation between me and the agent

bec: Hi, I see you're interested in me.
agent: Yes. You have some great stuff here. I think we'd be a good match.
bec: Sweet.
agent: You will, however, need to do some editing.
bec: Yeah.
agent: First of all, it's too anti-god. You're going to have to fix that.
bec: Um, well....
agent: And people are going to think you're an antisemite.
bec: I'm not sure I get that.
agent: You should really join a temple. Get involved in Chabad. Buy yourself an Israeli flag.
bec: What? This all clearly against my work! Are you kidding me?
agent: Do you own a wig? Perhaps if you started wearing skirts more often....
bec: What kind of agent are you?
agent: I work with Feldheim....
bec: I see. Well, nevermind then. It's been nice speaking with you.....

crap

 There's nothing like those "what the hell is that smell" moments. You know, when you're sitting around, doing nothing or something, or something which turns out to be nothing anyway, or the resulting nothingness and somethingness of some kind of nothing and all of a sudden, THAT SMELL twists itself around you like a boa, and starts choking you with its overpowering aroma, or stench, or whatever word you might want to insert there. Sometimes you can blame it on the dog. Other times, it's that scent of a fish tank after years of neglect. (I once had a neighbor with this type of fish tank.) Sometimes, it's the smell of garbage that needs to be taken out.
 Speaking of garbage needing to be taken out, you can probably tell that I'm just writing this to get the crap out. In a bit, I'll be back to working on a set of anti-prayers and non-blessings. For those of you who aren't sure, it's true. If there's such a place, you can meet me for post-death drinks in Hell. I'll be waiting.

Procrastinating

I'm totally procrastinating. I'm in the middle now of three things: editing this play, which is still between titles, working on a short story I was writing before Script Frenzy, and working on a new story, which can either turn into a short story, or perhaps a novel depending on where I go with it. I should be making supper. I should go to the gym. But for some reason, I'm totally exhausted. Okay. It's possibly because I spent the bulk of the day working in the garden, which, I should say, is a really great way to escape the insanity of sitting in front of a computer screen for hours on end. It's also a great way to ensure fruits, veggies and herbs in a few weeks/months. So that's where my productivity went....
So, yeah, I'm totally procrastinating. But I did spend some time editing. I did. I added a few lines that needed adding. I also started researching how to get my play produced. I don't mean to be anything less than humble, but it's a bizarre comedy and you know what? It's hilarious. I would like to organize a reading for the sake of editing, although I've read that usually if a producer or company is interested, he/she will organize the read through. So basically, at this point, I really need to do a killer edit job. I think I'll start that...later.

Failing Better

Before interrupting my life for Script Frenzy, I was writing several short stories. There was one in particular that I had spent a few weeks researching. I actually still have the pile of books next to me. Several pages were written, many more pages of notes were taken. And then last night, as I was recaffeinating, this thought zaps me in the head. I was wrong. Everything that I had written was just wrong. The flow was off. The whole concept was off. I had started the story too early in the action and had given too much background.
This was all without having read the story in a bit over a month. So I went back into it and I was right. It was awful. So today, after gardening, hanging out with the kids, making chalk outlines on the ground and other strange things, I will be starting over and not just rewriting, but reworking the whole concept. Several years ago, I would have felt that my initial efforts were wasted. Now I'm beginning to realize that these false starts are like the birth pangs of something greater (I hope!). I guess Samuel Beckett was right when he said "Try again. Fail again. Fail better." I'm rolling up my sleeves.
In other realms, I'm trying to get used to Twitter and working on getting a blog roll up here. Bear with me. I haven't had any coffee yet.
I highly recommend checking out The New Literary Agents. There's a great post where you can weigh in on the writing process and write about your own.