So, here I am blogging about how I should be editing the novel I'm trying to finish before my (self-imposed) February 10 deadline instead of actually, you know, editing it.
The silly thing is I really want to finish this manuscript. I think it's good. I think it's marketable. After trying to query agents on another project for a full year, I'm excited to start sending out something fresh and new and completely different that has not been rejected by a million agents already. I keep looking at my secret Twitter list of agents thinking, "You will like my project. And you will like my project. And you and you and you. How can you even stand me keeping it from you?"
And maybe that's the problem. Maybe I'm having a hard time sending my "baby" off to "college." Right now, the book will never be more perfect, more pure. It's all potential and unshattered dreams. But once you press "send" on that first query letter and receive that first "Dear Author" form rejection, the book starts to look a lot less shiny and new. And you start to realize that maybe, possibly, this thing you spent the last year-and-a-half of your life working on is better suited for a drawer than a shelf at Barnes & Noble.
So that's probably why I'm having such a hard time getting to the end on this project. I just want to enjoy a few more moments alone with this story before the world starts telling me it's not good enough. I want to cuddle up with it and braid its hair and reminisce about how it started out as a single idea, a single image, and how it grew and grew into a full-length novel.
But I know eventually I'll have to let go. I'll have to release it to the world and see what happens. I have another baby novel waiting for me to nurture and love it and help it develop into something real.
And in a few month's time I'll probably write another blog post about how I'm avoiding that book as well.
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