I’ve been sending query letters to agents all week. And I feel…sort of…okay? Which seems insane. Panicked anxiety and self-doubt are kind of my thing. How could they abandon me now, right when I’m making myself more vulnerable than I’ve ever been? COULD I BE MATURING AT LAST?

Maybe it’s because, after years of writing and editing, this book finally says what I want it to, and I’m excited by the idea of other people reading it, rather than terrified of their judgment and mockery. Or maybe I’ve just grown so sick of it that I’m glad to see it go. “GOOD RIDDANCE!” I shout as I press send on the email. Then I open my Word document and stroke the computer screen with my finger as I whisper, “I didn’t mean it. You’re a good book.” And I sing it a little song I made up to make it feel better.

…Maybe I should spend more time with people.

Anyway. I’m sure I’ll feel differently once the rejections start rolling in. The first one could arrive BEFORE THE FIRST OF MAY, and I have zero coping mechanisms in place, so there may be some panicked anxiety and self-doubt in my future yet. My plan is to wallpaper my attic studio with all the many, many rejections I will receive over the years. It’ll help me stay humble—PLUS I’ll save a ton on paint. Although I’ll have to figure out what to do when I run out of wall space….

In the meantime, I’m working on other things, and it feels GREAT. I’m writing and submitting short stories, working on a new novel (or ten), and making some changes to my website, which includes finding or taking a picture where my face doesn’t look like this:

Wish me luck.