This is amazing. Two years ago, I got everything together and sent it out. I was too afraid to put it all together into a proper story. I just jumped.
I actually heard back from someone. And then my life fell apart. It actually imploded, like a building being demolished in its own footprint.
Here I am two years later. A proper story in my hand. A contact at the publisher of my dreams. We shall see. Deep breaths. But what amazes me is the sick feeling I describe in my earlier entry. It’s as if my past self jumped to the future to commiserate with me and hold my hand. I still feel sick. But I’m doing it. No matter how scary it is. This time I’m following through, no matter what life throws at me.
Here goes. Off the high dive…
I feel literally sick. Today I finally printed out four blog entries. “My Bath”, “Super-Hero”, “The Day We Ran Away” and “A Day by the Seaside”. I had to pull them from the blog and put them in Word. Brush up the prose a bit so it could stand alone from the blog.
Then I wrote a cover letter to the publisher I’ve chosen for my first litmus test. It’s a publisher I love. Local. So I write this letter and then I start to feel stupid. I go over and over the letter and I just feel dumb. It’s one page long, follows most of the rules of a Query Letter and yet, I still worry obsessively.
I’ve been published before (short stories, magazine articles), so this isn’t TOTALLY new territory for me. Why I am so afraid? Why I am filled with alarming self-loathing? That someone will read this and validate my own feelings of worthlessness? I have to do this. No matter the outcome, I have to do it.
I can’t wake up 20 years from now in a cold sweat realizing I never took chances because I was afraid of being called stupid. I will ASPIRE to being called “stupid” today. That will be my goal.
Procrastination. Fear. I suppose I could unravel all of the unproductive motives I have for not getting on this. But I would still be here. Stalled.
Git busy. I saw one of those alarming “git ‘er done” bumper stickers the other day. Maybe I should affix one to my forehead.
(The photo is of a staring contest. Monkey won.)
I’ve done so little about this, it’s fairly pathetic. I suppose it should be filed under “procrastination is a demon”.
I keep hemming and hawing. Wondering if I can turn this into a children’s book when the blog is not geared towards children at all. But kids love Monkey. I just need to sit down, print out some of the better posts, show it to some friends in publishing and get some solid advice. How hard is that?
Boot meet butt.