Somewhat diverted this week by simultaneously beginning the first chapter of the second book about the Texas Germans (see the website, in a couple of days I’ll post the sample chapter there) and by actually having nearly a full week of work with my some-time employer… or as I call him, the worlds’ tallest ADHD child. I’ve now been working for him long enough that I have said this to his face, and he knows himself well enough that he can laugh… mostly because it’s true. I’ve been working a half day, two or three days a week, just doing basic office admin, filing, data entry, doing letters and brochures and reminding him about things like… oh, I dunno, answering telephone queries about properties for sale, and paying the bills regularly. And finding things. Very important, that…being able to find things. My personal tendency is to put things away, and remember where I put them. Therefore, it will tend to appear like the deepest sort of black magic when I can produce them almost before he can finish asking “Where is….??!!!”

His preferred method, BTW, is to just let it accumulate on his desk— notes, bills, reminders, reports, correspondence and all, and when the piles get too deep, scoop it all into a file box, stick it in the corner… and then wonder why he can’t find anything.

Hey, that’s why I get paid the big bucks. But wait, there’s more.

Dave the Computer Genius had installed a very workable little scheduling and data program on the office computers, and showed me how it functioned: it’s called “Time & Chaos” by the way… the nonconformists answer to “Outlook” I think. Up until this week it was just another funny icon on the bosses’ desktop, but last week I commandeered his Palm-Pilot and transferred the client and contact information and sorted them neatly into various categories. Nearly 500 of them… but hey, who’s counting. Data entry… it’s the office workers version of ditch-digging.

Beginning this week, I stood over the boss with a whip… no, not really, but the thought was really tempting… and I showed him how to open the program, and the field where he could enter reminders and notes for himself, link them to his client/contact data base, prioritize them, and check them off as they were done. And to enter appointments… and even to enter new contacts, instead of scribbling them on post-its and bits of scrap paper, or on the backs of envelopes or pieces of junk mail… all of which were prone to being thrown away, lost or misplaced, accidentally stuck to a completely unrelated file, gathered up and dumped into a box, played with by one of the cats, or eaten by the dog… (Yeah, it’s that kind of office. 4 office cats, one office dog.)

So, the boss is as nearly organized as it will ever be possible for him to be, and meanwhile I have been working away in my own little office, cunningly disguised as the south-west corner of my bedroom, sending out query letters about “Adelsverein” to an assortment of agents. There is a website that lists the fairly legitimate, reputable agencies, and I have been methodically working my way through it. I sent out to all the ones who accept email submissions months ago; now I send out about five to seven query letters every week, sometimes with a synopsis or sample chapter attached if requested, and the always-required self-addressed-stamped-envelope. This has taken on the feeling of a necessary chore, like putting out the trash cans. As this blogger sympathetically noted, “Writing it is easy. Selling is the hard part”. Honestly, I put the submissions and the queries out of mind as soon as I send them; somehow it just feels mentally healthier that way.

I do own to being mildly curious about one thing; I send out five or six letters and submissions a week, each with a self-addressed-stamped-envelope. I’ve been doing this since about October of last year, so I would normally expect back about the same quantity to come trickling back… but I never seem to get more than three or four in a week. (Although I did get four of them in one day… bummer!)

So, what is happening to all the others? In this best of all possible worlds, the submission is sitting on someone’s’ desk, or being reviewed by a committee and I might hear back months later. Or, they are peeling off the stamps and using them for their office correspondence?

I have had an email request from one agency for 100 pages, as they were somewhat intrigued by the premise… and just yesterday I opened the usual little return envelope and barely glanced at the letter before throwing it into the reject file… but no! They want to look at the first fifty pages, a detailed chapter outline, a copy of my original submission letter, a cover letter with a current telephone and email, another self-addressed-stamped-envelope… and way down at the bottom in teensy print I think they are requesting a small sample of belly-button lint, also. I’ll send it off, of course (all but the lint, I was joking, people!) and forget about it the minute I drop it in the mail.

So, that’s were it stands this week. Same Stuff, Different Day.