I have found that one of the consequences from my recent agent query disappointment has been an almost unbounded energy. Here I am referring to mental energy, the kind that converts creative thought into novellas and stories and novels.
In about the last two plus months, I have: written two novellas as part of a transgressive trilogy which I hope to publish on lulu.com or createspace.com; I am currently working on the third novella; started outlining the next novella for my R.C. Bellicki character (first presented in “Kansas Two-Step”) as so many people have told me he would make a good series character; and formulated plans for a YA novella to honor my niece Sydney (who mentioned me by name in a school project as her uncle and a writer and someone she wanted to be like).
I have continued my efforts on Facebook, attempting to find other writers and those within the industry. It would be lovely to meet with them all personally but we now exist in a cyber world and until finances are such that I can fly somewhere to meet them all, this will have to do.
I can look on this energy in two ways: either as the manic response to negative news and I am now waiting for the depressive crash; or the realization that I have a wealth of material in my brain and my neurons and my being and my essence and it’s about damn time it all came out on paper (or secured to the hard drive).
I choose the latter scenario.