MSS

After the Conference, I went a bit mad for the rest of the weekend, and have been trying to keep myself at it on my time - going over the manuscript with a fine-toothed comb. I've finally finished this once-over, and pronounced, for myself, that it is presentable.

Wow is this terrifying.

And yet, given the timing we've got here, it's also ... gratifying ... wondrous ... exciting ... emotional ... mystifying ... and MISTY-fying. I can't even tell you how many times reading my own work, even in a hurry now, has brought me to *tears* these past several days. Yes, yes, it's all very hormonal of me. Yet the fact is, it is a powerful thing to do. And the feeling I've done something - made something pretty wonderful - is overwhelming on its own perfectly valid terms.

I wrote a BOOK, y'all.

I'm selling it.



I made the decision before I ever left work, tonight I won't try to compose my query. I've set myself the deadline of getting it sent tomorrow night - but today, with all it had going on, I knew wasn't a viable time to try more writing.

Well, correction to that - it's not the time to go with a first draft my paltry brain won't be capable of reading objectively. Even with a strong query already, this email is going to have to be particular; so I won't just mash the document attachment onto what I have boilerplated.

(Even if that HAS been edited umpteen ways to Sunday, and for every agent I have contacted since February!)

Today is a day of rest, if only writing rest. I'm too smart a writer not to know SOME work is best just left undone for a minute. The *best* work is what I am after.

So time to go sit in my beautiful haven of a living room, with the great Lolly, for just a little while.

Then walkies.

Then puttering, bath time, and finally sleep.



A good day.

I mean: tomorrow.