On my way to work, every light was yellow.
I think that sums up my life right now.
When I was first learning to drive, I was absolutely freaked out by yellow lights. I still had my permit and was nearing my sixteenth birthday, when I came up to a yellow light and couldn’t figure out whether to go or stop. I alternated between the brake and the accelerator. Stop? Go? Yes? No? I finally went through.
“You just ran a red light,” my dad said. I felt like I had committed this cardinal sin.
And suddenly yellow lights were everywhere. Every other light I came to seemed to be yellow. Do they time them for the speed of uber-careful new drivers? “And if they’re going exactly the speed limit, they’ll hit the danger zone right… now. Yellow light.” It basically made me scared to drive for about a year.
I still hate yellow lights. Every time the light is yellow as you approach that intersection, you have to wonder: do you have time to speed through that intersection before it turns red? Victory if so, you’re on your way 😀 If not, you’re stuck, going nowhere 😦
Some authors have green lights. Their careers are obviously going somewhere. They have agents or editors, maybe even a book on the shelves. They’re heading forward, and they have good reason to believe they can keep going forward (because at the very least, someone in the publishing world believes in them).
Some authors have red lights. All they’re getting are rejections, whether it’s because their queries suck, they don’t have good ideas, or their first few pages show they don’t know how to write. Most of the writers I know have a decent understanding of the English language, but I’m always appalled to hear that a good percentage of an agent’s slushpile is full of people who can’t string a simple sentence together.
But what if you were endlessly approaching that intersection with the yellow light? Unsure if you’re getting through or going to have to stop. Filled with the exhilartion of the possibility of racing through and the dread that maybe you should stop.
Every light was yellow on my way to work this morning.
I have had a great response to my Fireflies queries, and every day I look at my e-mail hoping to be shown that I have a green light, but every day all I get is yellow. This wouldn’t be so discouraging–I mean, it’s better than all red lights; I at least have hope–but Fireflies is the third novel I have requests out there for. The first one, Love Sucks, has fulls that I’ve been waiting on for 4-7 months. That’s a long time to be anticipating that intersection. And to think that I might have another, say, seven months before hearing back on these Fireflies fulls?
Well, it’s enough to make a person scared of driving all over again.
Lots of love,