OK, OK, pulled that situation back. I found the small-press editor at breakfast and apologized. We had the meeting over scrambled eggs. It was good, relaxed. I’m not rested, but maybe being rested fries my brain. But there is something else going on. Am I too relaxed? My roommate said he would introduce me to his agent. Of course I said yes. But I am not jumping up and down inside. I think I maybe genuinely would rather do this–book production and sales–myself. I kind of think I could do a really good job at it. Publishing, that is.
Also, I did tell the editor about the explicit sex in my book, why it was there, and asked if I would fare better by removing it. I expected him to say yes. He said no. It was an interesting discussion that I have wanted to have with a book editor for a long while.
One way of looking at the editor meeting today is that he passed on all three books. Disappointing. And when I look at their book list, I don’t know why I chose him. I think it was because you can’t submit without an invitation, so this was my only way to get one. Only it wasn’t.
On the other hand, I really got a lot of behind the scenes questions answered. Another answer was that Criminals would interest him if it was more of a thriller. And from my end, that I don’t know where I would throw a dead body, so I would rather write a new thriller from scratch—if I were to do that. (Would probably take the same time and be better.) Those long-term answers have lasting value. Less second guessing going forward?