Discouraged is a funny word

Well, it is. It's so close to courage and would seem to be the "opposite" as if it meant "cowardly" but it doesn't. It means "to deprive of confidence, hope, or spirit."

This whole querying process is discouraging. I think this is just backlash from too much stress this week and a rejection, but it's feeling less worth it to continue to send out queries. It's not fun--really. Not at all. I know the odds are against us. I know that most agents receive around a hundred or more queries a week and rarely ask for more than one partial or full. It makes sense. They have a limited number of clients and a limited amount of time.

It just sucks to know the odds are against you. I've also noticed that several people have gotten agents this week from the quick looks I've taken at blogs I follow. It should make me feel good to see people beat the odds but, let's be honest, if you were sitting in Vegas at the slot machine next to the person that won the jackpot after you'd been sitting there investing your paycheck.... I don't think your first reaction would be to jump up and down and cheer for them. If it was someone you know--yes wahoo. Random stranger--hit head against slot machine before going home.

Anyway, it's probably just stress. I might come back post-Christmas and be ready and excited to query again. Maybe.

Yesterday took a lot out of me. My discussion with the neighbor was about twenty minutes long and heart-wrenching. I don't handle death well. I never have. So, there was several times that she looked like she wanted to give me a hug because I was so upset. I didn't mention this, but our previous neighbors died. It was part of the reason we moved. Their house's sadness just seemed to be smothering ours. It was all I could feel when I was home. I don't know why I can sense sadness like I can, but... I can. It's strange and slightly paranormal, but anyway.... Our previous neighbors--he committed suicide in his garage because his wife was dying and he couldn't live without her. He was a wonderful guy--he'd come over to our house dressed as Santa and give our kids gifts. His wife just meant everything to him. He'd "set" me up to discover his body, but luckily I was busy with the kids. He'd told me they were going on a trip--which they weren't--and to watch for lights on in the house or garage. I think discovering your neighbor's body--well, I don't even like to think about it. I have an extreme fear of corpses. So, having another neighbor die--reminds me of that. There are things that just never leave you.

Anyway, I'll be better soon--probably. It's just hard to plug away at writing when you know everything is stacked against you. It's not like I can stop writing, but writing and revising and obsessing for naught--isn't the most cheery thought.

Okay, seriously, it's probably just stress. T has been so strung-out on over-stimulation due to loose teeth and his funky sensory system. It's really, really, really bad. There are no words to describe how crazy he is. I wish I could get him in for some emergency appointments with the therapists. He is in such bad shape. Maybe I'll call and see if they had any cancellations today. It's THAT serious of an emergency. I might have to go spend a few hours in our therapy room with him. (Our house has a therapy room with swings and lycra hammocks and a ball pit. With two kids with Autism--it became vital.) T had a headache today. (He already gets them--our genes basically suck.) He wanted to stay home. There was no way. I'd be forced to lock myself in my room. I need a few hours of T-free life while I can get it. Tomorrow is a half-day and then they're off for Winter break. The thought fills me with dread. It's not T's fault. Hair cuts, dentist appointments, shots, ear infection--and now loose teeth--really make him nuts--like banging and kicking and screaming and shoving and punching and throwing kind of nuts. He keeps it together just fine at school. His teacher said she's been teaching for a while but she's never had a student with such drastic snaps of behavior. He's THAT good at school--and sometimes THAT bad at home.

Okay--end of rant.

I will be fine. I will survive... just like the song says. This morning I have a Christmas craft project to finish. It should be nice and fun. I need that.