Tuesday, March 28

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Last week I received another rejection of THE DAYDREAM, this from the agent in Dallas who represents my renter. I still believe there’s an agent and/or editor out there for this book, so I’m not giving up until I have at least 30 rejections. Which brings me to the goal for this week: Make two submissions—one agent, one publisher.

Meanwhile, I’ve reworked the first chapter of THE VIEW FROM THE BACK. The response from my critique group was a lot more positive this time. I now find myself making mental notes about various events that should be included.

And I had a good 16-mile run on Sunday in preparation for the Ocean City Marathon in two weeks. I happened on one of my own running gurus, Jim Sullivan. We chatted about the hyponatremia problem we share, and agreed that snacking on salty foods, along with taking electrolyte replacement caps, is even more effective in keeping our salt levels up. Fritos seem to work best for me.

More on Kate...

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I now know of at least six other writers who received letters almost identical to the one I received. Mmmm. Wonder what happened.

Meanwhile, I’ve been typing away at my second book The View from the Back of the Pack. It’s so interesting to delve into my own memories. I’d almost forgotten about my knee pain when I first started running, and then getting the orthotics I’m still wearing and which still protect my knees.

I ran a successful twenty-five miles on Sunday, so I’m feeling confident about the Ocean City [Maryland] Marathon on April 8.

That’s all I’ve got this week. Bye.

Where's Kate?

WRITING: Last Friday I received a disappointing letter. Before I explain, allow me to recap recent events.

Feb. 25: Kate McKean appeared at the Florida Writers Association Mini-Conference, representing Dystel & Goderich Literary Management.

Feb. 28: I mailed the submission she requested during my interview at the conference.

Mar. 6: Jim McCarthy wrote: “Kate McKean is no longer with Dystel & Goderich Literary Management. I have been reviewing submissions I her place and read The Daydream with great interest. Unfortunately, I have determined that we are not the appropriate agents to represent this material. …”

Bummer! I wonder how many such letters went out.

RUNNING: My scrapes from my fall last week are almost healed. I ran a hard 16 miles on Sunday and felt good.

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News on the running front

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<> This week my only news is running related. I started out at 5:00 am on Sunday morning for a 23-mile run. (My next marathon is on April 8, only 5 weeks away.) Little more than three miles into the run, I fell. I apparently tripped on an uneven section of asphalt that I didn’t see because of a missing streetlight.
<> As soon as my toe caught on the raised pavement, I knew the fall was inevitable, but still my arms flailed. Time slowed as I crashed down helplessly. My first thought was: Oh, no, not again. This isn’t the first time I’ve fallen while running. It’s always the same problem: I don’t pick my feet up enough and trip on a slight rise in the ground.
My second thought was also a familiar one: I won’t look. If I don’t look, it won’t hurt. It can’t hurt because I must finish this run today. I’ll just have to be tough. I knew my hands hurt, but I wouldn’t look at either of them. My right knee also smarted, but I wouldn’t look at that, either. I moved slowly to make sure there were no serious injuries. <>
I can move okay. Feet, knees, hips. That’s all I need. So, I’ll just get on with it. I can worry later about treating any minor scrapes. <>
I was reminded of the evening when I set out for my first ten-mile run. I fell about two miles into the run, but I dared not look. I kept going, determined to complete the run. When I got home and looked at myself, I was a mess. My left shoulder and left knee were both scraped, and blood ran down my left arm and left leg. But I had finished the run! <>
And so, on Sunday, I did continue—for about another mile, when I passed close to my house. By that time, my better judgment was kicking in and I decided that I should at least take a look, get washed up, and put some Neosporin on my wounds. It turned out that I had cuts on the heels of both hands where I had braced myself, and my right knee had a major scrape. I gritted my teeth as I quickly washed my hands and my knee, and then smeared on the Neosporin. <>
Five minutes later, I was back on the street and continuing my planned run. I made it to 22 miles before I quit. I didn’t stop because of the injuries, though. Nor did I stop because of my nemesis, hyponatremia. I stopped because of the very best reason: my legs were spent. <>
All in all, I chalk it up as a good run. I started out doing 5 x 1’s (for those not familiar with the walk-break method of long-distance training, this means that I ran for five minutes, then walked for one minute.) At mile eighteen, I stepped down to 4 x 1’s, and was able to maintain that to the completion of 22 miles. For me, that’s a good run. Often when I’m extending my distance, I’m reduced to more frequent walk breaks during the last few miles, or walking altogether. <>
My knee and one hand are still a little sore, but they’ll both be fine in a few days. At least I’m living up to one of my favorite sayings:

Life … is not a journey to the grave, with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming, “WOW! WHAT A RIDE!”