Role call

I'm curious. I know people read this blog or at least stop by, for the sitemeter tells me so. But who's reading? And from where? And how many people did I lose when I up and changed the url without warning?

Come on, comment. You know you want to.


October 2007

Happy Hump Day

Today for breakfast, the girls and I started reading Romeo and Juliet. (For the record, we also had peanut butter toast, apples, and orange juice.) They went off to school muttering the last line of the prologue:

What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend

and quarreling over who gets to read Juliet.

I swear, the older they get, the more enamored with them I become.



Digging deep in the archives for today's photo -- April 2006

That was interesting

Am just returned from a writing conference in Surrey, BC. And, well. It's embarrassing to claim to be a writer and have words fail you, but words are failing me, for I'm still a bit dazed. In fact, I shall be walking on air for the next few weeks. The very long story made short is that in addition to four days worth of workshops, sessions, round-table lunches and all sorts of wonderful things with editors and agents and writers, on Saturday I had a one-on-one session with Diana Gabaldon, a NY Times bestselling author. And, well. She liked what I'd brought along of one of my novels (an alternate historical fantasy based on the life of Elizabeth I). She liked it very much, so much so that she had no suggestions for improvement and told me she would buy it if it were in print. Whoa.

That's, um.

Whoa.

As luck would have it, immediately following my session with Ms. Gabaldon I had an appointment with a rep from an agency that I like and respect very much. And. Um. Well. He also liked what I'd brought along to the conference and the novel's overall premise. So much so that he asked my permission to keep the excerpt, got my email and phone number, and asked me to please send him more chapters plus a detailed novel outline. (He also talked to Ms. Gabaldon about my novel after our session had ended, but I didn't find that out until later.)

I am...I don't know what I am. I called Pete shortly after the agent session, and was completely incoherent. I'm still incoherent. In my reality one does not sit down with a NY Times bestselling author and hear the words, "I would buy this if it were in print," and "I'm looking forward to reading this when it is in print,"; nor does one then go right into an appointment with an agency's rep and get an invitation to submit one's work. And agencies and bestselling authors do not talk with each other about one's silly little novel...Who am I? What universe is this? Am I even awake?

I can tell you this, though: even if this goes nowhere, even if the agency sees more and decides they're not interested in representing this novel, this is major validation for the last six or seven years of shitty first drafts and endless revisions, doubt, sleep deprivation, and sometimes despair. In fact, I do believe that this alone will be enough to keep me going for at least another six or seven years.



July 2007