Every time I think I’m the last RWA10 attendee to blog about my experiences, I see another post. Maybe I’m not late, exactly.
I could give excuses (too busy writing, too many requests to deal with, too exhausted from seeing all of Disney). Or, I could tell the truth (haven’t gotten to it, grandiose ideas of including photos and no time to upload them, too much laundry). Or, I could tell you to go friend me on facebook (where I did actually post photos and a few updates). But somehow that phrase “go friend me” sounds an awful lot like “go do something else that starts with an f” when you say it fast. So I won’t do that either.
In the week since I’ve been home from Orlando, I’ve done the following:
- Removed pink polish from my toes. I like the nails painted, but it’s just too much effort to maintain the rest of the year.
- Re-polished the first three chapters of my contemporary manuscript, and re-worked the last synopsis I had written. Funny how the synopsis changes once you actually write the ending of the novel.
- Emailed three chapters and newly polished synopsis to a requesting editor.
- Received polite thank-you from the editor requesting the same pages snail-mailed.
- Smacked self on head with hand and said “Doh” because I really, really should have known that the house only accepts printed submissions. To be fair, she did give me an email address, and I had to look up the mailing address online.
- Continued polishing about 2/3 of the remaining novel. Need to quickly finish that up and send off to a requesting agent.
- Wrote 2 new scenes on my Sci-Fi-that-just-won’t-die manuscript. Last night actually. And I’m kicking myself for not doing something else (like editing or submitting or writing the other darned book that I half plan to finish before the GH deadline this fall), but that’s what happens when you let your subconscious run your fingers for you.
- Ate a steak sandwich in the cow barn of the Indiana State Fair. Total non-sequitur, I know. And, FWIW, the steak was excellent though the location was kind of unsettling (not just because of the aroma), as there were cows being primped for competition about 20 yards away. As my husband phrased it, “There is no second place.”