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I've been writing since I could first hold a pencil, and by all accounts I didn't limit myself to paper. Walls, tablecloths and the occasional sibling were all fair game, and it shouldn't be surprising to learn that markers were banned in my home with all due haste. Although I now content myself with inconveniencing electrons, the desire to bring the stories in my mind to life hasn't waned. In my spare time, I read, putter in the kitchen, and relax on my terrace, weather permitting, with my corgi who strives to be part muse, part food disposal. I'm also addicted to coffee and have a close relationship with my Keurig.

Sunday, April 13, 2014

It Doesn't Get Easier!

You'd think it would. It's not like this was my first time or anything. But here I am, as nervous as can be.

All it takes is one finger. Click the little button marked "Send." That's not very complicated, and it's not as though I'm going to get a nasty shock when I click. The little electrons do what it is they do, and there you go. Manuscript submitted.

And now, I'm at a loss. I've spent six months writing, revising, and tweaking that story, and I'm sort of attached to it now. I've already decided there are bits that needed more work, and I'm convinced that I've missed a dozen typos, not to mention gruesome errors in syntax. I can't do anything about it now. I just have to wait, and see if it gets accepted.

Of all the things I do as a writer, actually submitting something is the hardest thing. I love the writing, and I adore the research. I don't mind proofreading, either. But when it comes down to that moment when I have to let it go, I'm a mess. I dither over the email, triple check the formatting, agonize over a synopsis, and I know I'll drink way too much coffee for the next week.

You want to know the truth? This might be the hardest job I've ever had, but I wouldn't want to do anything else.

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