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Angie Hockman
Dear Santa, There are a few things I’d like for Christmas, and I’m hoping you can help a sister out. Have I been good? As good as anyone, I suppose. I mean, sure, I’ve hidden snacks from my family. And there’s the prolific and creative cursing in traffic. And the shutting myself in the bathroom to…
It’s November 10th, 2016, and I have so many thoughts. Most of them aren’t suitable for this blog, but a few are pertinent and I feel the need to share. If this election has taught me anything, it’s shown me that writers, artists, musicians, filmmakers, TV producers, and any and all creative types are more important today…
This is it—the news I’ve been dreaming about announcing since I first started querying The Hustler… I have an agent! And not just any agent, but the utterly fabulous Patricia Nelson of Marsal Lyon Literary Agency. If you read my blog, you’ll know this is me right now… Three weeks ago I was deep in…
Like so many writers in the query trenches, I spend a lot of time reading “how I found my agent” stories online. Depending on the day, I find the exercise either torturous or inspirational. Sometimes all I get from a story, especially one where the author received an immediate offer on her first submission, is a squirmy feeling…
So your manuscript is done. You’ve birthed that beautiful brain baby and after cleaning it off, showing it to your friends and loved ones, and letting it mature a bit, you’re finally ready to query literary agents. Huzzah! Now to fire off a few emails and steel yourself for the immediate onslaught…
The following is an actual conversation my husband had with a friend recently. Friend: “How’s Angie’s writing going?” Husband: “Good. She finaled in another contest.” Friend: “Awesome. What a nice hobby for her.” My reaction: It drives me absolutely bonkers when people describe my writing as a “hobby.” Paint by numbers is a hobby. Building sculptures out of…
For the past year and a half, my life has been one big blur of diaper changes, family time, work, and writing. Driving the same stretch of road between my house and daycare and staring at the same computer for hours on end every day made me feel like I was a hamster in a wheel. I was burned-out…
