At least editors’ rejections are kinder than agents’ rejections: one said my book was “too quiet” for her list. One said it was “too literary.” One thought the political themes were compelling but the love story wasn’t believable (the exact opposite of what many agents told me). I can deal with comments like these.

My partner is sick to death of hearing about the PTO. Me, too. But I told him that if I hadn’t been obsessing over school communications this summer I would have found something else with which to distract myself. PTO is a much more benign anesthetic than, say, heroin.

This seems like a good time to finish my PTO communications work and head to the cabin for three weeks. Ali says this stage could take up to six months. Thank god I have some fun consulting gigs lined up for this Fall.

This is the email Ali sent yesterday after receiving my latest draft:

“Oooo…Can’t wait to read! Congratulations on meeting the “deadline” Caught up with Siobhan today. She loved, loved, loved it. She’s a stickler for logistics, but you got her. She cried. And the agenting motto is, “You cry, you buy!”

Never thought I’d be thrilled to make someone cry but there it is.

Now agonizing over a title that encompasses the politics, the love story, the Nebraska setting, and the parental relationships. Easy, right?Common Ground? The Messy Middle? Please advise…

Apparently the publishing industry shuts down in July and August. Ali says this means we should submit in June or September. September? Jon’s already keeping a close eye on me: “Don’t stand too close to any ovens. I don’t want you pulling a Sylvia Plath.”

Okay, I exaggerate, but the slow pace of this process is excruciating. Fingers crossed for a June submission. Whether a publishing company buys it or rejects it, I would at least know something by December.

Meanwhile, kids out of school, Mom’s adapting to her nearby condo, client work picking up, and critical mass (district, County, funding) is building around my plan to develop friendly and informative K-12 parent communications that correspond to our district’s sex ed curriculum. I’m way too busy to fret over my novel.

Right.

Just received this email from her at the end of the Book Expo America in NYC:

“. . the fair was an amazing success and your manuscript is in high demand! Apparently contemporary, reality-based literary fiction is making a comeback! I’m so excited to be going out with your work soon! “

Great, right?

Actually, I have no idea what this means.

Am trying hard not to stalk her, but I want to tap dance on Ali’s dinner table and ask, “Do editors like me, Me, ME or is it that non-vampire books are in high demand?”

Yay!

I couldn’t post my news until now: I was afraid I dreamed it.

Then I didn’t post anything because I’ve been busy being consumed by my own stomach acid. Ali’s edits are on their way. I’ve been edited before. It’s like having a delivery nurse tell you that your newborn is ugly.

Getting published is a long shot.

And they say that the real work doesn’t even begin until an editor gets her hands on it. I’m not sure I’ll have any stomach acid left at that stage but I hope I get to find out.

Two more friends have books out: Paul Dosh–fellow Minnesotan and distant relative–published “Demanding the Land: Urban Popular Movements in Peru and Ecuador, 1990–2005″ (Penn State Press) based on his field research as a Latin American political scientist. I suspect I’d be smarter if I read this.

William Gumede–also in London on sabbatical with his family in 2007-2008, journalist and author of a grown-up best seller on South Africa’s Thabo Mbeki–wrote his first children’s book called, “A Kite’s Flight.”  He must have written this one in those empty hours between critiquing the ANC and fighting off its latest libel lawsuit. Yeah, me too.

And my family leaves for Cape Town, South Africa on Saturday. We’re visiting dear friends for two weeks.

And my house is clean.

And my pants are loose.

Where’s a class reunion when you need it?

I’ve also devoted large chunks of time to spinning my wheels and catching up on my Seasonal Affective Disorder.  It feels great, therefore, to find myself climbing back on the query-writing horse. I’d planned on only 3 months of what turned out to be a 6-month hiatus.

Nine queries in the universe, one kid (foolishly) asking me to help with her challenge math, and two CSA butternut squash taunting me from the kitchen counter.

I gambled on my theory that some of this perception of 1989 correlates with my (agent-world)  peers’ generational angst about hitting middle age.  To appreciate my setting is to own the fact that the Glee generation views our own teen years as an historical period. They don’t remember it: they read about it.

I think I’m on to something. Two agents have asked to see the full manuscript in the last ten days after receiving my new query in which I call a spade a spade:

“The Eighties are back, if recent films like “Adventureland” and “Hot Tub Time Machine” are any indication. With no trace of irony, teens are wearing skinny jeans, fat earrings and preppy shirts. The truth horrifies but here it is: these same young adults will totally perceive my novel set in 1989 as historical fiction. Mr./Ms. Agent, even if you, too, resent being “retro,” I hope you’ll consider Between Enemies—political fiction with a sense of humor—for possible representation.”

Otherwise, I’m buried in client work and have a weed-free, newly mulched perennial garden.

Thanks, friends, who continue to ask about the book and assure me that I’ll be published someday.