okay so since some of you seem to actually find my life interesting
(when I take a break from ranting about things that piss me off to write about my life that is)
I thought I (ohh some capitalization) might tell you a bit about my writing life
As a writer I've been on quite the roller coaster
You see I am cursed (blessed?) with a complete and total inability to write out of character
In other words, my wacky, bitchy, no non-sense self always weaves its way into my writing..
I tried journalism.. They said I used to many adjectives
I tried travel writing...They said "the best place to meet hot women" was not exactly what they wanted
I tried entertainment writing.. They said.."A tour of the dingiest dive bars in NYC" was not exactly main stream material..
So I was left with exactly two things that I could write about
Food
&
My Life
As a food writer.. my “fuck-you-and-eat-it” style of writing found a happy home at "Bust" magazine
bust
(www.bust.com)
You must pick up a copy today damn it!!!
I've been writing their aptly named column "Eat Me" for years now and loving it!!
“You must..you must..you must increase your bust!!”
But food writing doesn't exactly satiate the inner workings of my soul
It's memoir writing
and a new subtext of that..fiction based on real life experiences
that tickle my inner circle
heheheheh
sorry got tickled
anyway
after getting my "911" experience published on Mcsweeneys
"Thanks dudes.."
I felt confident enough to throw myself out in the world and try to do what I've wanted to do all along
get a %$#^&* book published
I had two books in mind
a serious memoir about my white, trash, jewish, renegade past mixed with my NYC haute cuisine catering life
and a funny light memoir mixed with recipes as a way of mixing it all up into a book length buffet
everyone told me the funny book was an easier sell
so i went to work
I had the material
Shit I’ve been writing about my life for almost as long as I’ve had a life.
I dedicated a year to putting it together and trying to snag an agent
after a million rejections i finally
hurrrray got an agent!!!
who worked with me for another 6 months on fine-tuning, editing, re-writing and re-writing again my funny food memoir until aaakk it was finally ready last fall to send out
i'm not saying i was setting myself up for a fall
but let's just say i had already picked out my writer's studio in hawaii
and said a silent good-bye to my chef whites
she sent it out to 15 publishers
they all wrote back and said in many varying degrees the same thing
"love rossi"
"love the concept"
"love the writing"
but in these economic times, we simply can not publish the work of an unknown
hellooooooooooo how the hell do you get to be a known????
do i have to sleep with monica lewinsky too????
&^%#*&^%%$#&* (too polite to translate)
so my agent says
"let's take the holidays off, we'll re-group in January and send your book out to the small presses"
ok
i spend the holidays lowering my expectations
i will not have the writers retreat in hawaii
i will have on in long island
or
umm
new jersey?
january rolls around and i get an email from my agent
saying she's been laid off by the agency
and she's very depressed
she also mentions that no agent will ever submit my stuff to the small presses
as there's no money in that
and um
good luck
so that left me
all dressed up with no place to go
tried other agents
no bite
so i spoke with my agent
and she suggested i dedicate 6 weeks to putting together the serious book proposal
i did
sent it to her
she loved it!!!
and i am now sending it out for bites from other agents as well
so far
i have been warned of two things
the economy is in the toilet
and memoirs don't sell
my expectations have now been lowered to
a writer's retreat on my %$#&* fire escape
the only thing i know
is the what i've know all along
that it's not about getting there
it's about staying on the path
and as long as i keep writing
and never give up
someone
out in this universe of ours
will give this little unknown gal a break
or
i'll just sleep with monica
she's not my type
but with the proper amount of margaritas
hey
shit happens
