What do I have to lose?
That way my thought when an agent requested my manuscript. I mean chances are slim to none that it will go any further from here, but it doesn't hurt to send it off anyways.
So naive I was. Tell that to me today when I've spent the last 48 hours scrolling through a 350 page manuscript to make sure that the formatting was correct and that there were no glaring spelling or grammatical errors. I beleive I got a form of motion sickness from it. I've slept poorly. I've ate poorly.
And then finally I got to the point where I could print it off, which you would think would be a simple matter of hitting print and being done, but no. Due to printer problems at home (I swear, nothing in my house works properly), I found myself yesterday at Wal Mart buying a new printer. And then I had to spend an hour to get it set up and installed. And then I had to buy the kids McDonalds for supper because I was too busy to cook. But finally, I was ready to go. But then at about page 200 I ran out of paper. So I was back at Wal Mart. Of course, I manage to somehow pick the one and only ream of paper out of the thousands they stock that doesn't have a CPU on it, how I managed that I have no idea, but it happens every time. And yet I haven't won a single free ticket on the lotto. Honestly. If it wasn't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all. So the price checking professional comes along, and I use the word professional loosely. He was an overweight adolescent with a blue Mokawk. I just tell by the way he ambled slowly over like he hadn't a care in the world that I was going to be waiting around for a while. And I was. After about ten minutes I finally went to go get another ream of paper, what happened to Blue Mohawk I can only speculate. Perhaps he saw some hair products on sale or something. I don't know. But finally, at nine pm and already bone tired, I left Wal Mart with my paper. I got back to my printing. And then at page 300 I ran out of ink. So back to Wal Mart it was. Finally I finished at about midnight. I crawled into bed and felt myself falling almost instantly to sleep. And then Alex woke up.
Oh God. I'm boring you. I guess this isn't that interesting to the average person. But the point is- I'm stupid. Like, OK, so your going to print a manuscript. Step one- make sure you enough paper and ink. Actually, make sure you have a printer. I would have printed it off and had it ready to go in the event of an agent asking for it, but I held to this stupid superstition that the only way anyone would ever want to see it was if I left it alone. Murphys law. Anyways, it is done and my manuscript is on its way to sunny Toronto. Does it get sunny there, I don't know.
Anyways, the whole process has been sort of like childbirth. This final push to spew forth this extension of me. Exhausting, exhilerating, but with an end product that was worth all the blood, sweat and tears. Actually, it's even better than childbirth. Childbirth, in the past, has left me with a case of raging hormones, leaky breasts and a seriously lacerated vajayjay. My vajayjay is gloriously intact right now, I am pleased to say. And even better, after I was finished printing everything off, I slept for seven uninterruped hours. I doubt if I had seven hours over a perios of three days after Alex was born.
So. Now I wait. I don't feel too positive about it right now. Last night when I was trying to polish my manuscript I got the distinct impression that I'm in over my head right now. Like, seriously, I'm just a small town girl with a book that objectively, may or may not be that funny.
At any rate, I am glad to have it out of my hands for the time being. And if nothing else, it has given me a little nudge that writing isn't completely futile. After a long, hard, year of rejection letters, I was beginning to think "what's the point". I spend all my spare time in the basement writing, and for what? To have a manilla envelope full of rejection letters? To have a blog that no one reads? Except for you mom and Lorrie. I know you're out there.
Anyways, I gotta go now. Work.
Will write later.