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Why This Blog? My Agent Made Me Do It!

After years of wishing on a magic star that somehow/someway by some miraculous cosmic

interlude, an agent would shoot down from New York, read my authentic writing and say “Hey baby – where have you been all my life? Some witch lock you up in a turret somewhere? I want you to be the next Nora Roberts, get your cute little princess butt on down here and show me what you got!!!!”

Ok, so it hasn’t exactly happened that way. Actually, I signed up to meet an agent to proof read a book proposal and give me suggestions on how I could improve it and maybe, perhaps, she might take me on as a client.

So typical in the everyday life of a goofy single momma….

Got off to a late start – could be due to the fact that those blush brushes did indeed need to be thoroughly scrubbed, soaked and hand dried (bristle by bristle) yet could also be due to the fact that I was perhaps, dare I say…. procrastinating? Uhg.

Call to get directions from close cohort; Bea. Directions are lost as Bea forgets to administer them. Apparently, there is the most fabulous pair of earring’s ~ buy 1 get 3 free ~ at the Dollar Store. Contemplate the durability of an ear ring purchased from the Dollar Store and wonder if I have enough time to perhaps pick me up a pair… or 40. Maybe not. Somehow directions are lost at this point in the ear ring confusion and before I know it, I find myself on the roof of what I thought was the correct building.  At first I’m throwing around the idea that my future agent may be trying to capture some sort of ‘New York ambiance’ by meeting on the roof top, but quickly change my theory when I am the only one showing up for said ‘New York ambiance.’

Ask for directions from snickering know it all teenage college students.

Ten minutes late to the meeting that is sure to change my life forever….BLAST!

Find correct building.  Enter in a hurry and looking very important.

Notice the cramped confines of elevator.  Scan for steps.

Discover I am 30 minutes early…. YAY!

Or not.

Could mean more time for nerves to erupt into a twisted stomach hurricane.  Not to worry…. you’re in a library, scan the books.

Eyes/mind declaring anarchy; refusing to focus on the words of the books in library.

Attempt meditative self talk “you are a wonderful writer and of course she will love your work.”

7 seconds later…. try firmer approach:

What’s wrong with you, idiot?  Who cares if she says

“Your book stinks worse than a rotted corpse and that you don’t have enough talent to bag the groceries at Bilo!!!”

You’ll never have to see this Pre Madonna again, will you?  Let her lamblast you!

Next course of action: Prepare come back speech for heartless agent: “Go for it lady/agent from New York, whom I’ve been waiting to meet my entire life! Crush me if you must! flush all my dreams, hopes and what little self confidence this 9 year old push up bra gives me, down the tubes! See if I give one iota!!”

HA! I’m elated.  I’m fully prepared when the agent dismantles my life by crushing my dreams of becoming a published author.

Feeling very satisfied with self.

Now, what to do…. wait a minute? where did these jokers happen to put the windows? what is there… one? How can ONE window suffice for the 40, maybe even 50 people in this library sucking up MY air?????

Da claustrophobia sets in. DRAT!!!!!!!!!!!

14 minutes later…

Met the agent.  No large objects thrown. Suggestions given:

1.  Learn how to actualy write a book proposal (oops. a tiny bit embarrassing but doable.)

Note to self: buy book on how to write a book proposal.

2.  Start a blog.

Note to self: Purchase book ‘Blogging For Dummies.’ Degrading yet effective.

WHOA CHIEF!!!  I’m not a blogger.  Did I mention that it took two years to muster up the courage to send my book off in the first place and now she’s suggesting I put my self out there for all the world? I’d rather walk down the highway naked! I inconspicuously scan the library for MY window.

Contemplate what agent will do if I faint due to lack of circulating air?

Agree with faux vamped up enthusiasm to begin lifelong journey of blogging. (choke down vomit in the back of throat.)

Skip out the door like a twelve year old.

8 months, 3 blog designers, 732 frozen Margaritas and 1 nervous break down later…..

Here she is!

Welcome to my blog!!!!!!

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