- Circa 1999, a small publisher offered me a contract on a novel. Hurrah! I mentioned that offer to an agent, who quickly signed me on. Double hurrah! She then read the proposed contract and noted that the publisher wanted ALL rights--film, TV, all media that's not yet been invented, etc. And they wouldn't budge on it. So we passed on that publisher. Oh, well. She'd find someone else, right?
- Wrong. After about a year, during which time I heard almost nothing from her, she closed the agency, admitting to all her clients she couldn't handle the work and stress. Okay. Back to square one.
- I wrote a screenplay based on that novel. I sent queries to filmmakers. One guy, an indie director, called me and said he liked it. He wanted to option it. He'd send me the contract. OMG!! Hurrah! Only...he never did. I never heard from him again, except when months later he mailed back the script with no explanation. Plus I had to pay the extra postage due before I could pick it up from the post office. You suck, Hollywood.
- In 2002, with epublishers appearing on the scene, I took my chances and queried some. I got a novel published with one. And a different novel published with a different one. Hurrah and huzzah! But a few years and not many sales later, both epublishers folded. I was back to being unpublished.
I still don't have an agent. All the stories mentioned above are still unpublished (in any and all media). But at least now The Wild Rose Press has one of my books out (which is now an Eppie Award finalist), and another in edits, so my spirits are much improved. Maybe someday I'll get an agent too, and Hollywood will come begging for my forgiveness. But even if not, no way are those afore-listed setbacks keeping me from doing what I love. And thank you, publishing world, for helping thicken my skin and force patience into my unwilling temperament.