This was supposed to be query week. The goal was six queries to agents. (Why six? At the SCBWI conference in Austin Nathan Bransford said to have six "or as many as you feel comfortable with" queries out to agents at one time; and it was a goal.) I got out three. Today I got out none, just noodled around putting roadblocks in my own way.
Why do we do this crud to ourselves? Why is the fear of trying and failing, some days, so much worse than the certainty of not-trying and failing? Especially when the potential rewards are so great?
And why, on the other side, do so many people have so much confidence and so little knowledge that they spam agents and publishers randomly with queries, without even checking to see what that agent or publisher wants to see?
Is there no happy medium and can't I get to that place, where I can get over myself and do what I need to do without making such a huge production out of it? I mean, sheesh, it's just a freaking business letter! If I had a character who waffled this much, I'd drop her story like a hot potato because it'd never go anywhere.
Why am I blogging about the fear of querying instead of querying, or researching agents, or at least mopping the kitchen, cleaning up that back corner by the shed that's all weeds and fallen branches, or putting pockets on my husband's jacket, which would be productive even if it doesn't advance my career?
Monday. I'll do great things on Monday. After all (cue up GWTW music and the wind machine) Monday is another day.
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