Poser

Yesterday, I found out my sister-in-law got an agent for her book. She's a special Ed teacher, is kind to animals and is really a great person. She wrote a kid's book a few months ago, went through the very familiar routine of sending the book off to people. She got an agent. According to my wife, the agent recently represented another author, whose book was turned into a movie. It sounds incredibly promising.

There's no doubt about it. This is a great piece of news for her. She's had a long, rough patch (some of which has been brought on by her "doesn't-play-well-with-others" girlfriend). It's a shot and I'm trying really hard to be glad for her, but man... I've got a wall papered with rejection letters. My book is under it's fifth official re-write and I already know I'm going back for a sixth for what is hopefully a final punch up. The book has evolved from 135,000 words to right around 85,000. I'm not even planning on sending out new queries, new samples for another couple of weeks.

She deserves this. She deserves the shot. She's earned it. I want to be happy for her, but all I can taste is my own envy.