I Got a Call from a Literary Agent

 

I got a call from a Literary Agent.

A dream come true, right?

However, I was suspect. I didn't want to get too excited, for I know getting a Literary Agent is about as rare as finding a hen's tooth.

I have been getting calls from people interested in a book I wrote way back in 2008—I don't know why it suddenly got attention, but I wondered if this was like the other calls—they wanted me to pay them to market my book.

No, says this agent, he would take a standard 15% commission. He would write up the proposal, a pitch, and approach publishers, plus promote worldwide distribution. He thought it had universal appeal, for it was a journey, a life story, human interest, horse training, and is about an animal-human bond.

The book It's Hard to Stay on a Horse While You're Unconscious is a horse book I paid Xlibris to publish. I was innocent then. I didn't know you could publish a book for free on Amazon, which would take a small fee if it sold, but not before. Xlibris provided some editorial input; they sent paperback and hard copies to me, plus I got a Kirkus review. (It was good; I rambled some, but they liked it.)

I sold a few.

I stopped paying attention to the book when it wasn't selling, and I thought it was overpriced at $19.99 for a soft copy, $29.99 for a hard copy, and $9.99 for an eBook. (I made around $2.50 a copy plus or minus a few cents.) I thought the title was too long. I was rebelling when I heard that you must use a short title, and I felt that the two ways of looking at the word unconscious made sense. If you are hit in the head and out cold, you can't stay on a horse, and I was awed when I discovered that a horse would follow your conscious attention to a point ahead. Also, when you aren't paying attention, a horse can spook, and you will sit in thin air while the horse is elsewhere. (I once rode my daughter's horse Dee and found if I focused on a fence post ahead without touching the reins, she would go straight for it.)

When I read the contract, it sounded much like a real estate buyer's agency contract. (A realtor once tried to coerce me into signing one of those, which meant I would owe him a fee for any house I bought, no matter what agent showed it to me, or if I found it myself, or had an owner-to-buyer agreement. In other words, I was stuck.) Yes, sign a buyer's agency contract when you like the agent and want them to help you find or buy a particular house. Now Oregon law is pushing that, and I'm a licensed Real Estate Agent.

What to do?

(In Real Estate School, the instructor taught that most Real Estate issues are negotiable. Remember that when buying a house or signing a publishing deal.)

Alpine Meadow

 

On the Fourth of July, I trekked through an alpine meadow with a gurgling stream straight off ice melt, with plants and little flowers hugging tight to the earth.  I saw what the wild wolves see. I was at the base of Mt. Shasta.

Thinking about it, I can’t think.

Ray Bradbury had a sign by his desk. “Don’t think.” People call that nebulous something various words—intuition, the internal knowing, the muse, the Holy Spirit, God.

I sat beside the lake, dangling my feet in ice water until they turned numb.   

It will take a while to integrate what I learned on the mountain, and even longer to articulate it. Maybe nothing will come, perhaps everything. Maybe seeing that all creatures and non-creatures are imbued with spirit—the trees, the water, the flowers, the rocks, the little raccoon that wanted to look at me, but didn’t want me to look at him, that giant old Grandmother tree that fell to the earth. It is crumbling, providing shelter for the little ones, providing mulch for the ground—soon, it will be soil.

I got it that human beings are not warring, sniping, sniveling, petty entities by nature. That has been drummed, conditioned, and taught to them. Human beings are love, expansiveness, beauty, and children of a divine creative force.

“Miracles don’t happen overnight. Sometimes they take an entire weekend”

P.S.I didn't have my camera with me. This picture was taken from the highway.

Break Out

 

Most everyone writes like most everyone walks. But we don't all strut like Carole Channing in Thoroughly Modern Millie (Movie 1967).

 Don't you sometimes want to break free and feel that free abandon with work and life? 

They say that every kid is an artist. But we're adults, and we have built up some self-consciousness. Or we're in the gap between where we are and where we want to be. 

We have good taste. We can tell when a story doesn't ring true. We have a good idea, but we ask ourselves, why do I sound like a freshman when I want to have graduated with a Ph.D.?

It's the skill we need before applying what's in our hearts.

Skills can be learned.

But before we study grammar, story structure, plot, The Journey of the Hero, or the mechanics of the Screenplay, we must still the voice that screams in our ears that we can't have the thing we want. 

We hesitate to play full-out in most endeavors. We want to dance while scrubbing the floor but scowl instead. A slight change of attitude would have made our time joyful instead of burning sunshine.

(I used to work in an office where the receptionist, when totally frustrated, would clean the office. It worked for all of us.)

We hear about doing what we love and getting paid to do it, and we try. We hear that life is supposed to be fun but feel we have little of it.

It's break-out time.

It might not happen all at once. It might come in spurts, but it will come. We are writers. We have declared ourselves to be, and so we are. 

Now, we want to be good writers.

That's called learning our craft.

Once, at a writer's workshop, an author/presenter asked: "Who wants to be a writer?"

Everyone in the room raised their hands.

"Then what in the hell are you doing here?' he boomed. "Go home and write."

Here's where I have a problem: if you keep putting out the same old, you won't advance. Some input is necessary.

Let's investigate…

Art is Expressed in Many Ways

 

"It is the inner commitment to be true to ourselves and follow our dreams that triggers the support of the universe."—Julia Cameron.

I have written this blog for years, and I have another blog, https://wishonwhitehorses, that I have written for even longer. For a time, I was using the same material on both blogs for I thought I had two different audiences.  I am keeping this one for writing, blogging, and supporting artists.

We need a place for happy thoughts, at least uplifting thoughts. I spent the weekend with a lady, an old friend with whom I have been out of touch for years. She was the daughter of my mother's best friend—since they were in Junior High school. She has her own business and works out of her house. Now she is single, and with her kids gone, she says she will go for days, maybe weeks, without talking to someone except over the phone or via email.

Come on folks, we need some human contact. Although here we will stick with our internet connection.

I once took a workshop where an editor would critique one page of the participant's work. She called it a "No blood on the floor critique." It takes someone with the confidence of Johan Travolta to counter a "Blood on the floor critique." When an agent told him he would never be an actor, he walked away saying, "They're nuts."

Many never recover from such a put-down.

Yet artists grow. They mature, they learn their craft, and if a person keeps on, they will improve. (Unless, of course, they keep repeating the same old tired ways of doing things.) Artists need some fresh blood in there from time to time to push them to the next level.

Many writers use Beta readers (or sensitivity readers) to review their manuscripts. For many, such readers are a friend or spouse. We can offer such a service, but only one page please. We can be fresh eyes on your page, and offer non-professional opinions, Hey, we’re readers. We know what we like.

Or tell us about your desire to express yourself creatively. Even if it is throwing ingredients into a pot to make a superb spaghetti sauce. It’s fun to cook with no recipes, that’s creative.

If you would like to submit a page of your writing, I will offer an opinion, but I am not an editor, nor do I claim to be a writing expert. And we will offer it to our readers for comment—that can be private if you prefer.

If you have been reading my memoir Your Story Matters, we are up to Chapter 46 and 47.  It is available to read at https://www.wishonwhitehorses.com

 P.S. None of my material is A.I. I heard over the weekend that someone (who is that person?) is writing small books selling like half-priced hamburgers at McDonalds, which are AI-generated. That drives me crazy!

P.S.P.S.  In honor of an artist:

Two moments ago, I looked up James Earl Jones and was saddened to learn he passed away on Sept 9, 2024. 

James Earl Jones—that baritone velvet-voiced guy did not speak for eight years because of a severe stutter.

This story is from Michael Moore recapturing the voice of James Earl Jones:

“Somehow Professor Crouch, to his surprise and pleasure, discovered that I wrote poetry. The boy who had written the poems was the same mute boy who had fought with uncontrolled fury. Both fury and poetry poured out of my silence.

"I'm impressed with your poem, James Earl," Professor Crouch told me after he read my ode to grapefruit. "I know how hard it is for you to talk, and I don't require you to do that… [But I think it’s best] for you to say it aloud to the class," he told me.

"It would be a trauma to open my mouth in front of my classmates, who would probably laugh at my poem and my stuttering….

"I was shaking as I stood up, cursing myself. I strained to get the words out, pushing from the bottom of my soul. I opened my mouth — and to my astonishment, the words flowed out smoothly, every one of them. There was no stutter. All of us were amazed, not so much by the poem as by the performance….

"Aha!" my professor exclaimed as I sat down, vindicated. "We will now use this as a way to recapture your ability to speak."

 

The voice of Darth Vader did good.