And, in case you were wondering, I decided to pass on the opportunity to publish with the company that I mentioned a couple blog posts back.  The individuals I spoke with at the company seemed nice enough, and I enjoyed our conversations, but the contract left a bad impression--like a crimson handprint radiating on my cheek. 

Could it have worked?  Maybe.  I'd been speaking with another of their signed authors for a week or so prior to receiving the contract, and I guess he negotiated a lot of the things I took issue with to work in his favor.  Probably I could have, too, but I didn't even wait for them to reply with a counter before I bid them adieu.  In the end, I decided it was a divine hint that it was not the right timing or maybe not the right opportunity.  I haven't even really tried to land an agent yet, so, in a sense, everything is a possibility.  Well, except for that publishing company.

There'll be more doors to open and look inside, more lessons to be learned.  This I know for sure, though:  I will be published, one way or another.  Mark my words.

I need help.  I need your help.

I need you to throw anything you have at me--prayers, good thoughts, jingles, spare coins, whatever. 

It's an unholy time of the morning and I am up because my blistering shoulders told me to get up and rub the lotion into the skin (I really did NOT want the hose again).  Once the lotion soaked in, though, my mind couldn't turn back off.

This publishing thing has me all sorts of conflicted, y'all.  Reviewing the facts (or lack of facts) I have on my prospective publisher, I should continue on my merry little way.  But here I am, pausing.  It makes no sense.

A friend of a friend told me that if my goal was getting my book out there no matter what, even at the cost of my own legitimacy, to go ahead.

At the cost of my legitimacy?

Ouch.

My work--my status as a writer--could be construed as unworthy should I chose Publisher B over Publisher A?  Or, in another example, self-publishing vs. traditional publishing?  I presented this idea to my husband, who assured me that reasoning was flawed.  "If you're on the worst baseball team in the division, that makes you less of a baseball player?"  Some would say yes, but I understood what he was trying to get through my skull.

I get it.  I wouldn't have asked this friend of a friend to drop some knowledge (or, at the very least, scathing opinion) on me unless I didn't really want to hear it.  And I'm trying to be open to what is coming back to me--good and bad.  The problem with this particular company is that it sounds so promising, but it is so new that that's all there is right now--promises.  I'd sincerely hope that people would caution me about what I'm considering.  I'd likely do the same in their shoes. 

The answer to all of this seems so clear sometimes, and, at others, I can appreciate the views on the other side.  Frustrating.  Where is my Magic 8-Ball when I need it?

I'm obviously still weighing the plusses and minuses of this particular company and publishing traditionally at all, and I'm still on the fence.  That being said, I'm supposed to talk with their contract guy later today to explain their process.  I'll update when I know more, if I even know how to decipher any of the legal mumbo-jumbo into words any of us can wrap our brains around.  In the meantime, I'd reallyreallyreally appreciate it if you could think of me and help me to receive clear direction as to whether I should proceed or not. 

Thanks.  You're a peach, I don't care what the others say about you.

A year ago I'd not quite finished the first draft of my novel.  If I recall correctly,   the bulk of my writing took place near the end of July and most of August 2011.    The draft wasn't complete, so I dribbled bits and pieces here and there until I finally felt it was complete in December.  Nearly 69k words, a surplus from the 50k I'd been shooting for initially.  Thousands of attempts to make something readable--a feat considering I'd sat down at my tiny HP netbook with no story and no direction.  Crazy what has happened in my life since then.

This year I'm going into National Novel Writing Month with an improved second draft under my belt.  This time, my biggest fear is going into this thing blind again.  I love writing, but forcing myself to spend months ripping apart and stitching back together the old with the new feels less like writing and more like playing Dr. Frankenstein.  Outlining and planning are two of my weakest points, I'm already aware, but even the crudest of ideas are a step up from blank pages and an oppressive deadline.

Scrivener is a snazzy program for writers who are in the drafting/research phase of a novel.  They offered a nice discount for 2012 NaNoWriMo participants (and something like 50% off for those who meet their 50k goal), so I hopped onto that bandwagon.  This blustery, miserable day was spent navigating the tutorial in an attempt to demystify the program.  Now I kind of have a clue what some of the features do instead of being convinced I'd wasted my dough on something I'd never figure out.  Plus, the guy who compiled the tutorial wrote like he was British, which is always fun to read.

Another positive:  This morning the name of the next big antagonist came to me, I don't even remember how.  Out of curiosity, a few minutes ago I looked up the meaning of her name and it means "heavenly".  That's pretty funny because she certainly believes she is God's gift to mankind.

I wish those minor accomplishments were enough to say I was ready for the start of this next journey, but I know it's not. 

Two days to make some plans.  Scary.

First of all, I know every one of you is sick of hearing about this novel (and most of the other things I go on about).  Word counts.  Chapter numbers.  The rather strange experience of having people living inside your head.  All of that.

Thank you for looking past that. 

I realize that half of you will like what I've written, and half of you will think it is rubbish and will make fun of me behind my back.  It's okay.  What I've written isn't earth-shattering, but very few things are.  For me, it is a journey, a challenge, a dream.

Thank you for letting me be excited about my dream.

I'll probably never be a best-seller.  My book isn't about vampires, werewolves, zombies, or post-apocolyptic kids thrown into a death match.  There's no swearing, no sex, no drugs, no booze. 

Thank you for letting me be PG.

I just can't believe it. 

Thank you to Courtney and Tim who have stuck with me to the end of this one, and Rosie who suffered through the atrocity that was Draft 1.  Thank you to my muses, Moe and Ish.  And, most importantly, thank you, God.

I am seriously going to be sick, I'm so excited to be done with this draft.  Here is it, my last chapter.

Mr. Ohboy, my biggest fan, has also been very skeptical when it comes to this whole novel ordeal.  He believes in me, I know.  It must seem that all I do is write, and it's been so much of what I've done for the past 16 months.  This shouldn't have taken that long, it's true.  My horse shouldn't have died, either.  The writer's block following that was incredibly frustrating.  Even now, I know that I haven't made my way back to the level I was at before.  Maybe I never will.... but I've learned a lot in the process.

It's not over yet -- these last words have to find their voice, and I think, first, I need to go ride a horse and give my hands (and mind) a break.

But I draw closer to it with each word I type.  That's nice.

This could be the last chapter of draft two, which is pretty darn exciting!  I had to threaten myself with a Facebook hiatus until I wrap this thing up, which seems to have been effective.

Chapter 18 was awkward and I still don't love it.  I see revisions in the future, but at least I'm more at peace with where it is now.

I might be done with this just in time for National Novel Writing Month, where I would undertake another 50k-word novel during the month of November.  The question is:  How much do I hate myself?  ;-)

This week I've managed to roll out chapter 11 of my second draft, and now I am undertaking chapter 12.  This would be so much easier/faster if it was just editing for grammatical errors instead of chopping it all up into bits and pieces, throwing most of it away, and rewriting to fill in all the holes. 

~ Last year I felt a whole lot more adept with words. 
~This year I feel more like a cavewoman, grunting and pointing (and sometimes jumping up and down and waving a club). 

~ Last year I was all about the blind, no-questions-asked romance. 
~ This year I pushed my way through far too much of the "Fifty Shades of Grey" trilogy to convince myself that blind "romance" was boring; and unrealistic dialogue was, to me, the literary equivalent of an unmedicated root canal.  I know I keep picking on this book, but honestly.  That's about all I can say about that.  I hope to have just an ounce of the success E. L. James has, but without all the drrrrrty.

~ Last year I was just trying to make that 50k word mark in one month.
~ This year I realize I want it to be 50+k words someone else could read without wanting to poke their eyes out at some point.

Always looking for willing readers who want to give feedback of any kind.  Who knows?  You might end up with a town named after you.....