being a little girl who got into the cookie jar again.
So something magical happened today. It was a culmination of a lot of things, really. A lot of work and some dreaming, but mostly it comes from pinning my new writer friend/mentory thingy down and demanding that he tell me everything that he knows about writing, marketing, and publishing. I want to know about agents and small press and how you know when to bail and what should keep you hanging around. I want to know what I should be researching when looking for a press, and I’m learning about things like “magic numbers” and if it’s acceptable to submit to a place that doesn’t give advances, and what the etiquette is. His answers have been invaluable to me, and I am just amazed by the things that I’m finding out. He is quite gracious, and I feel this sense of urgency to bleed him dry before he realizes that it’s quite irksome to constantly be bombarded with questions. (Which is obviously how I repay graciousness.) But all of this knowledge has led to two things:
1) I’m now quite excited about what comes after the writing as well as enjoying the actual writing
2) For the first time, maybe, I am realizing that I could really get somewhere with this. It isn’t just an unattainable grand dream. The whole writing/publishing world is a fantastic, fascinating machine that actually works. I am firmly convinced that if I work hard enough, and long enough, I’ll succeed. You know what that is? That is freedom. That is joy. A delightful I-Ate-All-Of-The-Oreos kind of joy.
Pieces out: 42