Been slaving over the pitch for Amazon.com Breakthrough Novel Award. I can hardly spell discipline without looking it up, however, that is exactly what I need.
The horses are outside and hungry and the hubby has collapsed, I have to find time to finish that stupid pitch! Add to this two Jack Russels, a mutt, a cat and a sick husband - all clamoring for my attention, well the pressure is on. Now that I've declared my intention to enter this contest, I've had to re-write my first Chapter, ripping the first six pages out to get to a place where I had relevant dialog to start with. (Ack!)
However my opening quote is a good one. "So what does a guy have to do to get a plate of fried chicken and French fries in this place?"
I think of this as the 'grunt' work of writing. The pitches, the queries, the contests, researching markets and struggling to turn this beloved story into something more than a mere file on a disk. Without 'readers' writers aren't anyone. But finding the way through this maze to the prize of publication at the end - well that's a different can of worms.
Yet, for the writing to have meaning (ie. Readers) traversing this maze is required. (Oh Joy!)
Blogmanship has it's advantages. One can pretend that people are reading a blog, even if no one is, they might.
I've started thinking that networking sites could easily outlive the people who put them up, as a blog could. There's something to keep you up at night, eh? One hundred years from now, which web-sites will be 'national monuments?'
Classmates.com perhaps? I've got photos up there, will I be leaving that for posterity when I am no more? Hey there's a happy thought -- Not! I have a few photos that I'd like to post of my favorite teen years. Wonder if the other person involved would object?
This brings me back to the photo issue for the contest. Can you believe they want a photo of the author. (Me?) My very first publicity shot is a old tin-type of me in a hat with a bottle in one hand and gun in the other. (Rotflmao)
My wicked mind reels at the prospect. Better not. Anything that much fun would get me into trouble.
Can you tell that I'm punchy from slaving over that bitch of a pitch?
I'm getting close, I'm tripping over my own feet to have this come out better than any other blurb I've ever written.