I actually like DC’s New 52 reboot a lot more than I expected, but I guarantee no matter how you feel about it, you’ll get a kick out of China Mieville’s Dial H. That book is one of the coolest damn things I’ve read in a long time. Go check it out.
First up, I turn 40 today. I woke up wondering if the internal switch had been thrown that would cause everything to start falling apart. Everything seemed to be in working order, however, so I got up and went to my usual Saturday taekwondo workout. It felt good. I told friends my goal was to enter my 40s in better shape than I was in my 20s. What I haven’t told anyone is that this is not that hard to accomplish.
So, there’s that.
I rather timidly dipped my toe into query-land this week. Sent two e-mails off to agents who only wanted query letters (I’m still tweaking the synopsis, which is a royal pain in the ass).
I had one form rejection by the end of the week, so I can now check that rite of passage off my list.
The synopsis should be in good shape by the end of the weekend. Round two of agent hunting begins Monday. Wish me luck.
I began work on a new YA steampunk novel. I thought I’d be working on the Seraph sequel, but this story’s been burning bright in my brain for months now, and it needs to go down on paper. Seriously, it keeps me up at night, nagging me to forego sleep and write more. If I didn’t have Clark Kent duties that paid the bills, I might, too.
That’s all for now. I’m gonna go get my 40-year-old body worked over at the Japanese spa.
Week ending 8/18/12
- Agents queried: 2
- Form rejections: 1
- Word count on the new book: 5500
Held my breath for a few moments this afternoon and then clicked “send” on my first two agent queries. Held my breath a little longer, panicked for a little bit, was reminded by my wife to breathe, and I’m now feeling a little less jumpy.
But only a little.
In the meantime, I continue work on a new book. My mantra has become, “Four pages a day, every day.” Today I managed seven pages while chanting that.
Just keep writing.
When Ray Walsh dreams about the missing and endangered, he’s guaranteed to find them. Over the years he’s found dozens of people, dead or alive; but there’s one missing person he has never been able to find, and that’s because when Ray Walsh dreams about himself, all he ever dreams about is falling.
Ten years ago, Ray was just another nameless, faceless member of the city’s army of the homeless and forgotten, with no name, no ID, and no memory of who he was or where he came from. He has managed to rebuild something that resembles a normal life with the help of clever friends and his unique talent. Ray is perfectly happy as he is, and his past can remain a mystery as far as he’s concerned. He’d be the world champion of avoiding the truth of his life, if only he could stop dreaming about falling and then waking up in alleys, naked.