Evidently, typing "The End" does not a novel make. I forgot about the little details like a final draft, which, if you've ever written a novel, is never REALLY final.
BUT, after several weeks of editing, she's as done as she'll ever be...and I mean done as in forwarded to the editor by way of my agent.
I forgot how much FUN this part is. Nothing like your heart needing a jump start with the paddles every time the phone rings or the e-mail dings.
But wait...everyone in New York is in the Hamptons this time of year, right?
And do I really want to get the phone call that will crush my hopes? At least while I was writing the thing, hope was my constant companion. Now I'm stuck with the twins, dread and self-doubt.
I miss hope.
The only way to get my best friend back is to start another book. Fortunately I have three good ideas. I'll just take the weekend off to host another pool party or two and then get started...
4 comments:
Karyn,
When my agent (ahem) last year sent my MS out to four different editors I was, by contrast, filled with joyous expectations. Those were subsequently pounded into dismay as one after another of the editors said nice things, but...
So which is better? Hope and joy and expectations, which are later dashed? Or fear and dread which may never be realized? Dunno.
I figure the current situation (which you know about) is the final gasp of a chance for that first novel of mine. Given the past, I'm honestly pretty neutral about it. Meaning, very little hope OR dread/fear. Kinda, que sera sera. (Gee, somebody ought to write a song...)
John
Here's hoping the twins are un-needed compaions... and that they give way to pure excitement!
I need to actually write something cogent enough to find an agent to even begin to get to where you are!!
I'm wishing you all the success in the world!!
Here's wishing you luck, Karyn.
Faria sentido se eu entendesse!
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