the smell of desperation comes through this blog

I'm new to this blog thing. I've done a few other blogs. I clearly started this one awhile ago, but only recently have I kept up on it, and more importantly, started to read other people's blogs and comment sections. Among the blogs I read are pretty much everything by an agent, editor, or anyone on that end of the publishing business that I can find. Here's something that I've noticed. The desperation isn't just me. I can tell in the comments.

For every encouraging post are a bevy of comments in thanks. For every post mentioning things some idiot did/bad queries/showing up at the office/unreasonable demands on the editor/agent, there are a dozen comments on how the commenter is so much more aware and prepared than that. They know and would never, ever, ever do anything that stupid. Even the occasional comment on how to query the specific agent/editor or mentioning how the particular agent/editor had rejected them but that's okay, they like the blog anyway. I love all these people.

Some people may manage to not be angst ridden at finishing their first novel and trying to get it published. Some people also have perfect pitch, trust funds, and no trouble getting dates too. This has never been me. I'm not the girl who gets discovered by the big time modelling agency in a McDonald's. I'm the one with grease in my hair, standing behind the counter, working my butt off and thinking that I'd be prettier than her if I wasn't in my stupid uniform with grease in my hair, and I lost a little of the weight I've put on lately.

So I'm a little angst ridden. I've been dreaming of this ever since I stopped imagining myself as Meg Murray and started imagining myself as Madeleine L'Engle.

And now here I am, very close to finding out if I can make it in this business, devouring any bit of advice and commentary that anyone can hand out to me, and hoping that if I collect enough tips and tidbits it will slant the deck in my favor. I won't wind up among the 99% who never make it. And part of me, that irrational, optimistic part, is hoping that after the difficulties of learning to write well and writing a novel that the next part will be easy. That someone will come along and discover me. The right person will notice my blog, or perhaps my brilliant and erudite comments in someone else's blog, pop on by, read the bits I have up and decide he or she has clearly found a brilliant and publishable author, and I'll be discovered. Hey, it happened to John Scalzi. Can it happen to me? Please?

Reading other people's comments, I can't help but think that some of them are writing from the same place. Please notice my brilliant thank you to your advice. Please notice that I would not be a troublesome author, but instead, a fabulous one: I'll write only bestselling books; I'll be easy to work with; my manuscripts will always be in on time and require little work to get them ready for print; I will be the coolest, hottest, sexiest, snarkiest, best author you ever worked with. You will love me and I will make you lots of money and bring tons of critcal prestige. Please discover me.

Maybe I'm projecting my crazy thoughts on other people.

But just in case there are a few other people who know better but can't help hoping and then you read that two sentence comment you just spent three hours writing and realize just after you hit the button that you do sound a little more desperate than you intended. Yeah, for you, I'm right there with you.

Now back to work.