Figure Skating Rejections...

So, I got an email from my agent today. I briefly pitched an idea for a YA non-fiction book about a famous figure skater via email yesterday. When there's some more information, I guess I'll elaborate. I'd at least like to secure the skater's cooperation and possibly a contract.

The other tidbit of information was that there had been a response from one of the publishers who was reading On the Edge. Random House - Knopf Books for Young Readers rejected it because "despite the fascinating subject matter, it's too commercial."

Too COMMERCIAL?!

I thought "commercial" was a GOOD THING? Color me clueless yet again... at least figure skating is "fascinating." I asked my agent to send me a copy of the actual rejection—that's pretty standard. Half it's a way to make sure they're doing their job. The other half... well, so I'm a glutton for punishment.

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I joined SCBWI a couple weeks ago and finally got my membership packet. I am whelmed by it. It's got a nice listing of publishers, good information and a long list of members... many of them local to me. Of course, the vast majority of the members in the region are "up North" so "We don't do much down there." Kind of peeves me as there are a good 20 people here and that's enough to get some good stuff going.

Anyway, the main reason I joined as that I heard that it give you little extra brownie points with editors. I don't know WHY it would as anyone can pay their $75 and join... only that it's supposed to. Maybe it only works for "members" who actually have previously published work, rather than plain "associates" who just paid to play.

I'm going to try to market a picture book that my agent isn't interested in over the transom (that's the little window over the door that authors used to throw manuscripts through). We'll see if it makes any difference. I don't really plan on a career as a picture book writer... but I have a few lurking around in my head that I would love to see done. I guess we'll wait and see.

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My littlest girl goes to the pediatric neurologist tomorrow... probably for more tests, getting blood drawn, maybe muscle taken for a biopsy. I guess we'll find out when we get there.

I am pondering whether to have my oldest daughter (and myself) tested as well. I don't have to worry about getting medical insurance myself, but I don't want some company telling my girl that she cant get insurance or that they won't cover her children because she has a "pre-existing condition" ie a genetic disease. On the other hand... I don't want her going through life not knowing what's wrong with her... why her health is so much weaker than everyone else's.

The challenges just multiply!

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And last but not least, the online community of writers to which I belong lost one of it's nearest and dearest yesterday. Bea Sheftel passed away yesterday morning. I didn't get along with Bea. She frequently annoyed me, often to the point where I was so angry that I would write scathing replies and then delete them. I almost kill-filed her. Bea saw in black and white. She simplified everything down to where it ceased to mean what it actually meant. It drove me up the wall because I see shades of gray. We were just fundamentally different—and far too much alike.

I couldn't dislike Bea. There are people that you may not be able to agree with, but whom you sense "mean well." Well, Bea meant well. Bea was easily as outspoken as I am. She was a woman of strong opinions and strong convictions. She was always helpful, often compassionate, sometimes wise. She wasn't "Saint Bea" but she was "Bea, a good person." She wasn't a hypocrit. She put her hands, and her time, and her money where her mouth was. You have to respect that. I do.

I felt guilty at first, because I had thought to make peace a few days ago when I heard Bea was sick. I had a bad feeling. I get them sometimes. I had a lot of regret at first that I didn't speak up and let her know that I didn't dislike her and that I did admire the goodness in her. Maybe I didn't want to be friends... but I didn't want to be enemies. It's a hard thing, knowing that chance is gone. I don't like regrets. I usually run my life such that i don't leave things unsaid, or things undone, that i don't have things to regret that I can't change... well, this one I can't change. Like I said in my post to Momwriters, "She knows now, but I wanted to tell her myself."