Not an Elevator Speech

It is a why did I go decaf morning. I have worked long hours this week and have to work more this weekend. But first, I get to blog. Infinitely more uplifting than writing about my work project, herpes in HIV. I won’t go into the pictures I have had to view.

My book is taking shape, although it seems way too short. They don’t hire editors to put text in, do they? My theory is that all this technical writing, the day job, has made me way too succinct in my creative life. I am thinking about authentic ways to add some meat to the book’s bones. I don’t think increasing the font to 18 will fool anyone.

Despite my undernourished draft, I wrote my first draft of a query to an agency yesterday. A big New York agency on Broadway. Just the thought makes me starry-eyed. I had fun touting all the compelling aspects of my unfinished book. It’s an e-mail query, and I struggled with the balance between grabbing the reader and sounding overly slick. I also had to restrain myself and not just run off and send it in an enthusiasm spasm, not without second, third, and fourth opinions.

I thought about posting my draft to my writing group, but I have become very possessive of it. There are two factors at work here: I have this loopy notion that someone will steal my idea, and I don’t want to be deflated by a less than flattering critique. But as I write this, I realize that I have to take this step (and hope there are no essay burglars in my group!). Honestly, I don’t think anyone but me would want my idea. It’s a bit offbeat, and some might say too academic. I’m not sure if this makes any sense, but you’d really have to be me to write it.

I have to find an exciting, pithy way to explain it. Marketing types call this the elevator speech. But I’m not sure the kind of writing I do lends itself to elevators. A bit of history, reflection, memoir, some writing exercises: it’s the opposite of edgy. Instead of a finding a hook I find a nice, soft pillow. Pillows are wonderful, but how exciting can you make them sound?

I know I am in for the long haul. I read once in Poets and Writers about an author who lost her whole book in a house fire. As I was leaving to pick up Gavin, I hesitated on the porch and remembered that author. Where was my laptop? Where was my disk? I was running a bit late but went back inside and grabbed the disk anyway.

I got an early start on my weekend. I get 4 paid half-day Fridays off this summer, a nice little perk. I had to forego my half-day for a project last week but made sure I left early yesterday. I was pretty flattened from some heavy work to stay on deadline, and only felt capable of getting my nails polished. But sure enough, after that breather, after someone massaging my hands with mango lotion, dipping them in paraffin, and making them look glamorous, my hands (and tired brain!) felt ready to type again. Reviewed my last chapter, typed my first book query. Gavin and I had a nice supper and walk to the beach at my mom and brother’s place. I watched Gavin’s delight as he jumped in the cool evening sea. Today, more water sports (swim lessons). Gavin floated solo (not clinging to me) for the first time last week. Life is good.