Let Trumpets Sound

I'll be honest.

I haven't blogged lately because I was busy wallowing in the Pits of Despair. I was paralyzed, because perfection continued to elude me. 

Every time I touched the keyboard, I wasn't sure if I was improving the story or making it worse.

I'll spare you the melancholy.

In the end, my critique group buoyed me up and advised that if I couldn't bear to look at the manuscript anymore, it was time to let go.

So that's what I did today. 

I submitted my manuscript. Look out, lit agents.


I wasn't sure if this day would actually come. I like to finish the things I start, but cripes...this story sparked to life 5, FIVE years ago. Five years is a long time to stay motivated. I took a few months off here and there...but always came back to the page. Not on my own steam, but driven by friends' requests for updates. Hey, if you're not internally motivated, sometimes you need kicking in the butt.

Current status:

Despite my heart and stomach having switched places, I have an odd sense of calm. 

I am profoundly grateful for all the support and encouragement I've received. This story has been my baby for 5 years, and it's taken a community to mature it into the 96,000 word tale it is now. 

If this sounds self-lauding in any way, allow me to clarify: it is!

Because there's a time for everything, and this is a horn-tooting time if I ever saw one. 

So here goes.

Here goes nothing, and everything I've got so far.

[P.S. Average agent response time: 1-6 months]