So, DEMON MOON has a page at Amazon.com (I’ve been checking pretty much daily so that I can put the link up on the website) an ISBN, and an estimated page count (I imagine someone takes the manuscript and word count and sends the estimated final page count with the initial info).

480pp.

*headdesk*

DEMON ANGEL’s was 432pp, and it’s a dollar more than every other debut author’s book out there.

*headdesk*

I’ve got to stop this. My editor ended up being okay with DA’s length because she thought the story was good and there wasn’t anything superfluous that could/shoud be cut out, but I still felt like crap, because that’s not what it’s supposed to be. That’s not what I was contracted to write. I want to be professional, right? And yet I’m setting myself up as an overpriced problem author.

Even though I’m really nice; no, I’m a problem in other ways … overwriting ways.

And then I put together all of DM’s chapters just before I sent it out (my last computer died and the file was corrupted before I got my new laptop … but I didn’t risk having the whole document all in one until the last couple of days or so before deadline … and then I hit word count … and almost cried. Actually, I think I did) and it was even longer.

This new one, I swear, will not get over 120K.

(It’s only supposed to be 100K, but I’m trying to be realistic.)

And, hey, since I’m on a self-pity party.

To my car (part deux):

Eff you. I hope you enjoy your overnight stay in the Target parking lot.

To Target:

Eff you. Next time you should totally have the new Kresley Cole.

To Dean Koontz:

Thank you for writing something that I can read on the bus when Target effs up Kresley Cole.

Phew. All better now. :joker:

…suppressing my tendency to make fun of myself when writing a query letter.

I should probably not say:

Hi, I’m Meljean, a somewhat silly person who likes men in tights and capes. I wrote a couple of books, but they’re really long and stuff. With lots of blood. You wanna read them?

Or,

Hi, I’m Meljean, and I’m looking for representation because I have no idea what the heck I’m doing business-wise. Like, I’ve got a couple of books coming out next year (that might totally bomb, who knows?) and I’m writing the proposal chapters for the third single title in the series, and I think it’s under option[1] but I really like my editor anyway and am not looking for a different publisher because I like my angel-titty and could you send it to her please please please?

Or,

Hi, I’m Meljean, and I’m a dork, but if you represent me I’ll send you some chocolate, because my sister works at Godiva and shit. Oh yeah, and my characters are way hawt, because I wish I was.

…yeah. Or not. Sigh.

——–
[1] And the fact that I’m not really sure shows exactly how much I really, really should have an agent.

A recent post by Diana Chamberlain at RTB discussed her adventures at Starbucks.

I’m one of those writers*. The baristas have my drink ready when I come in; my regular seat may as well have MELJEAN written on it. I resisted it for a while (didn’t need it for a long time, because I worked at a computer lab desk and pretty much wrote all day — and it always seemed Pretentious) but after I left school and set up my workstation at home I found that I was spending FAR too much time on the Internet. I’d look up something on wikipedia.org or dictionary.com, and the next thing I knew half-an-hour had gone by.

But at Starbucks, you have to pay for Internet access. And I’m cheap**.

BUT — it’s Ramadan now. I’m fasting from dawn to sunset, which means no food, no coffee, no water. Which means that I’m not going to Starbucks, because I’d feel really crappy sitting there without buying anything***.

Which leads to a second problem: after a year and a half of writing at Starbucks, it’s kind of a ritual. I just sit down and write. So when I’m not there, I find myself more easily distracted, writing more blog entries, checking more websites, that kind of thing.

Note to self: THAT’S GOT TO STOP!

Whine to self: It’s kind of hard to write when I’m really hungryyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

Answer to self: Then write at five in the morning after you eat breakfast, idiot!

Whine: But I’m so tirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrred.

Answer: You stupid bitch. Write. Or write after you break your fast. Like right now, idiot.

Anyway, I don’t feel pretentious anymore. I’m just getting the job done.

*I can’t remember what I was going to say on this footnote.

**Too cheap to pay for T-Mobile, but apparently not too cheap to buy a $3.60 (just up from $3.55) coffee and (once in a while) a scone. I’m saving a whole ass-load of money this Ramadan.

***Because the $3.60 coffee and (once in a while) scone are kind of like rent. I’m renting that chair out, dammit! It’s my office away from my office. Or something.

Related to nothing: God, I love WordPress.