Since I’ve never done this before, I’m figuring less information is better, but I can’t help but want to share bits and pieces. Today I did what I’ve been wanting to do since I was in high school. I sent out a book proposal to a publisher. I’m chipping away at my manuscript and I’ve gotten to the point where I am in a good position to share my concept, and hopefully get a contract with someone.
Here’s a nice shot of my samples and resume before I stuffed them into a box and shipped them off for their date with destiny. I could have remade each sample twelve times because they weren’t “perfect” but it wouldn’t matter how perfect I got them if I never sent them away and took that chance.
So now I’m sitting here with my Guinness on St. Patrick’s Day with my husband, quietly celebrating the first step. Does this mean I get to call myself an aspiring author now? I’m going to go with yes. It kind of reminds me of the first time a real artist referred to me as an artist and I decided that I would accept the title and call myself one, too.
In holiday news, we all wore green. Of course. The girls brought soda bread to their teachers as gifts, along with some well colored Jan Brett shamrock coloring pages as gifts. I had green beer and guacamole (I know! Not irish!) with my friend while the girls watched The Secret of Kells. And now we’re drinking Guinness and getting ready to watch something Irish-y, maybe Waking Ned Devine or our Solas reunion DVD.
Did I mention my husband is legitimately Irish? We sort of behave this way year round.