Fifteen pages. That's what I accomplished today. I am fretting about the pacing, but then I always am. I hate editing.
When my fairy god mother finally finds me (She's the woman in the pumpkin carriage who just passed your house for the third time--please go out and tell her to go left at the stop light--no, no, the other left) I'm only going to ask for one thing. We're way past handsome princes, balls and glass slippers. These days it's a middle aged husband, the grocery store and tennis shoes. Now I'll just settle for being able to write a perfect copy the first time. Oh and an agent. And world peace of course.
4 comments:
Want to hear something funny? I was getting very few hits on my blog until I posted that entry on the Olean Testicle Festival. Since then I've been getting hundreds. I wonder what that says about society...
I get the ones about people jumping off of things. 'Worries me a bit sometimes.
Good to see you blogging. By the way, I read your short stories too. I especially liked "The Encounter".
Still no agent, eh?
Better check that Christmas list to Santa.
I'm sending you a pat on the back for the 15 pages. What is that 4500 words? Practising for nano?
Good job.
bander
'Lo Bander
You sort of have to have a polished manuscript before you can even approach an agent. I'm still sanding and painting.
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