So I've donned my bestest, most expensive, most bewdiful pair of heels and I've strutted my New Voices entry up to the Inbox, pasted it in there, prettied it up (as best as possible) and waved goodbye to it.
And boy do I feel good! No, seriously. I feel the kind of great that words really can't describe. Not because I think my entry is so fabulous that it's going to knock the socks off anyone lucky enough to read it .....although....! No just kidding. I'm feeling so good because I took the risk. I enjoyed myself so much during the writing process that it felt positively naughty. I enjoyed researching how to polish and edit my work and then enjoyed applying that knowledge (a big poster-girl salute here to my blog mentors Jackie Ashenden, the Sassy Sisters, Maisy Yates, Nicola Marsh and all the talented people who write for QueryTracker). But most of all I enjoyed entering it because even if I don't win (and let's face it in the face of the talent that's already up on that board, I'm being optimistic if I say my chances are at best anorexic) I've done it.
I'm not wearing bad shoes. I'm not accepting that this burning passion inside of me to write is just something to keep to myself. I'm not going to put writing off for when I have more time, more money or less demands on my attention. I'm not going to add writing to a list of regrets, a list of I-wish-I-hads. I'm not settling for less than what that little voice in my head keeps whispering I could have. I'm not allowing the fear of what other people might say or think or do control my actions. I'm not letting my negative thoughts (or what Jackie calls the Voice of Doom) ruin my moment. I'm not wearing bad shoes.*
I know it's Sunday and who knows when my entry will appear in all it's nekid glory but you know what - I don't care. I'm going to continue in my quest to be positive and so it's time to start polishing chapter two (The Elevator Scene) and THEN because I've been such a good girl I'm going to start on a new ms. A chicklit book, the idea for which came out of nowhere and has been singing its siren song to me while I've been busy with Emily and Aiden.
But first I must show you the newest addition to my closet family:
*Bad is, of course, a subjective term and you can take it to mean ugly, or ill-fitting, or old-fashioned, or tacky or whatever. As a metaphor, it works for me. What works for you?