So that publisher rejected my ms. Not altogether surprising, I know. But, eh, it’s okay; it was rad that they even asked to read it….Also, I’ve already sent a query to another one. (I got a list a mile long! The industry will be so sick of my name after I’m through with it! HA.)
The rejection doesn’t even bother me (though it sucked). I’m bothered by my own creative apathy. Not sure what’s going on, but I can’t and don’t want to write anything. Except I have tons of ideas. I just don’t want to write any of it because I think there isn’t any point; it’ll only come out like shit anyway. Stupid reason….The whole shebang is kind of like being stuck in a jail cell, except you’re not really stuck because the door’s wide-open, and you could escape if only you took a step.
Reading all your stuff is rather inspiring. (Though, also more depressing because your stuff is helluva lot better than mine.) So, maybe I’ll try to write something. NaNoWriMo is coming up, too, and I’d really like to do it this year instead of making up grandiose excuses for why I can’t do it. What am I gonna do instead? Watch TV? Nothing good is on anymore…’cept “The Black List.” That show’s cool.
Also, I’ve been binge-Netflixing (that’s a fun word) “Luther.” Check that shit out. Now.