I hate looking for stupid literary agents. What a pain in the ass. Just a few days ago, I sent out my second wave of queries to potential agents. So far, I've sent thirteen queries all together and have received two rejections. One of those was sent to me the next day. Gotta give that guy credit for being on it, though. I know that rejections aren't supposed to be a big deal, I guess I just wish it wasn't so much work.
I did find some suggestions to meet agents at writer's conferences (of which there are several throughout the year), but most of them are on the East Coast or so far south in California that the street names start reading like the menu in a Mexican restaurant. I did manage to run one down in Portland, the Willamette Writer's Conference in August, but just to go a single day, the admission is 250 bucks. The whole weekend is about 450.
Still, I carry on. Just keep working, I tell myself. Lately, I've been thinking about adding a few more titles to my self-publishing catalog. Not because I think it would make any money, but because it's something that I could have some control over. I think that's probably the worst part of the whole agent thing. Not having any control over the matter. Having to sit here and bite my fingernails for weeks on end.
