My story is in Chicken Soup for the Latino Soul

I just got official word that an essay I wrote was selected to be printed in Chicken Soup for the Latino Soul, which comes out August 5th. I'm very excited about it. The essay I wrote was about my dad. He's one cool dude!


Dad is on the left, that's Uncle Joe on the right.
Felicidades,
Kathy :-)

Finally - my agent's thoughts on my book. Gulp.

I got the word from my agent on my novel today. Not at all what I envisioned. I had this fantasy vision that he would tell me how wonderful it was, and I would tilt the handset, or maybe even put it on speakerphone so all my co-workers could hear. Wait, I need to explain why.


Back story - my co-workers are professional newspaper critics. Once I mentioned I was writing a novel and one of them let out a huge laugh. So it was my underdog dream to be able to to hang up the phone, stand up and say "my New York agent LOVED - no adored my manuscript!!"

With baited breath, I waited for my agent to say the first sentence.

"It's a mess. I didn't even read every page or type up notes. There's no plot. You need to start all over. It's very funny and heartwarming, but those elements are secondary to the plot. And setting, you need more setting. Yah, you need to start all over."

Can you imagine working for almost two years (not counting a year of outlining a "non-plot") to hear those stinging words? I would most certainly not be standing up bragging. Instead, I watched as my teardrops fell on the notes I was scribbling, pretending to be cool with it.



It needs revisions. LOTS of them. But - I'm happy about that. He gave me great detailed info that I wouldn't have known otherwise. I took a lot of notes. I silently sobbed while I wrote them because he was harsh in a tough love kind of way. At first I had a knot in my stomach, but then I relaxed. Like my dad always say, it can always be worse. My agent could have said "Give it up," or not shared any tips with me. Despite the discouraging feedback, he said he still strongly believed in me as a novelist. Nothing is ever perfect the first time around. Right? Well, except for newborn babies, puppies and a fresh jar of Mod Podge. Anyway, it feels so good to have an expert in the industry offer valuable advice on what to do to make it better.

I'm not paranoid anymore, I'm inspired!

Actually, truth be told, I'm depressed. I have a lot of work to do if I'm really serious about this book. Am I? If so, why? I should be focusing on things that are more "for sure" than a crazy, cliched notion of writing a stupid novel. Do you know the odds of first time novelists getting published? Do I really have what it takes? I'm thinking maybe I need to shelve this project and get back in sync with my family. I need chocolate.

All day I've been replaying the book in my brain, and I already know what kind of editing surgery I'm going to perform on it if and when I'm ready again. 

At least I feel like I'm one step closer to being "in the club". I'll explain: I talked to a few friends today (experienced published fiction authors!) who told me, "Welcome to the club!" I guess no matter how many books you have under your belt, revisions and suggestions are ALWAYS a part of the game. I have two non-fiction proposals to bang out, and then I'm diving back into my fiction manuscript. Live and learn, right?

Felicidades,
Kathy :-)

Still waiting for news.

However, no news on the novel until next week. I think I can hang on. Yes, I'm still obsessed with the whole *period, but not an exclamation point* thingy, but I'm dealing. One way ot another.

For starters, after I heard from him today, I was EDGY! I got this weird impulse to go smoke a cigarette to loosen me up. I can't remember the last time I ever smoked a cigarette. There are these two guys at my work who pass by my desk to go on a smoking break several times a day. I've always been fascinated by that. It's like a secret club. I wonder where they go, what they talk about, etc. So today, I invited myself to join them! I think I freaked them out a bit. But they were very sweet and one of them offered me an American Spirit. He said he felt like a corruptor. Really he isn't. I puffed on the cigarette and it did take the edge off. I won't ever do it again though. Mystery solved! That was hours ago and I still have the taste of tobacco on the inner lining of my cheeks.

...Although - I did get to see our company's outdoor smoking lounge. It's very pretty and relaxing - all full of tables, covered benches and trees. If it weren't for all the cigarette smoke floating in the air, I think I'd like to craft there on my lunch hour.

I got a lot of funny but supportive emails from fellow authors about my insecure pity post a while back. This one is my favorite:

"Our poor agents, if they only knew we visit the Oracle at Delphi to decipher their every punctuation mark, turn of phrase or stifled sneeze, they probably would change professions and take out restraining orders..."

At the confident end, I found out I'm going to be speaking to 900 librarians at this year's AZLA convention, and signing books at the ALA one in Chicago!! 
Felicidades,
Kathy :-)

A period.

Panic alert!

I'm so nervous, I'm practically plucking out my eyelashes! Pulling the thread out of my the hem of my blouse! Chewing on my glitter glue sticks!

My agent started reading my novel this past weekend. Yesterday, he sent me an email that said he is "enjoying it so far" - no exclamation point(s), but a period. He often uses exclamation points in his emails when he is excited about something. But then, he uses periods a lot too.


Enjoying it so far.
What does this mean?

I can't share the pain of this experience with anyone (except Patrick, bless his heart). Bottom line? Nobody cares. Everyone around me is SICK to death of hearing about this subject - and they have been ever since last November, when I began the process. I know this because someone at my work told me: "Kathy, honestly, no one really cares but you." So I'm not ever talking about it again to anyone.

Um. Just here, I guess.

I'm a middle child. I don't handle rejection well. I know that to be a writer, you have to accept the good and the bad with thick skin and learn from it. But with art, I'm used to working on something and having it, well - work. You can splash a glob of paint on something and it's art!!! Fiction writing isn't like that. There's characters, plots, story arcs, attributions, POV, adverbs, tenses, etc. Make it stop!

Basically, I'm blind and clueless when it comes to knowing if I have the hang of it. It's like painting a canvas with a palate of gray scale hues, and now my agent will turn the secret decoder light on to reveal if my colors match up. I loved the process of writing a fictional story. All the characters became my homegirls and I worried about them and their problems 24/7. I don't want this to be the end of that ride. I want to tell more stories!

To make matters worse, I torture myself by reading all these other author web sites. I dream that someday soon, I can stand among them. And then I read their sample chapters and think, "Oh God! Who am I kidding?" I also look at the wonderful, talented journalists that sit around me at work and I wonder, "They could do a way better job than me. Why in the world haven't they written a novel?"

*shakes out hands...takes deep breath*

Can I just say one more thing before I force myself to crawl out of this pathetic well of anxiety? I can't handle the wait!!!! I wonder if I got myself over my head. Why can't I just be happy with what I have already? I know there is something grand out there waiting for me. It's weak times like this when I wonder if my drive comes from fantasy or ambition. Will I be 80-years-old in my rocking chair, stars still twinkling in my eyes - telling Patrick, "This is it, amor! This is going to be THE year! I can feel it! Hey, let's go inside now, Crafter's Coast to Coast is on!"

Present day. The realization has set in that maybe my collection of 98,456 words will suck harder than Loverboy on that awful TV show the other night.

I'm worried my agent is sitting at the dining room table, asking his wife for advice RIGHT AT THIS VERY MOMENT on how to break the news to me about my horrible novel.

Agent: (Swallows piece of iceberg lettuce from dinner salad. Sighs.) "I told her I was enjoying it so far..."

Wife: (Dabs corner of mouth with napkin) "Uh-oh. You didn't use an exclamation point, did you?"

Agent:(Stabs a cherry tomato with fork) "No, of course not. I made sure to use a period."

Felicidades,
Kathy :-)