Writing Wrongs

September 25, 2005

First, would you look at that word count. There’s something about getting a novel past the 30,000 word mark that makes it feel real to me. I must admit that I had a little “help” this weekend. I dropped in a previously written scene this morning, although it wasn’t as easy as all that. I needed to make some modifications, since I’d written it quite a while a go and things had changed.

Then I glanced at my email and remembered. Yikes! An agent requested India Charlie. Guess I better print it out. Do I have paper? Do I have enough ink? I haven’t printed a full on this particular printer. Will it have a meltdown? It’s already sucked down one ink tank. Ouch.

Andrew wants to know if this means my book will be published. I tell him I don’t know. We’ve been down this road before and as pleased as I am, I know all the pitfalls of getting too excited. So does he. “So, is it another Army book,” he asks. I tell him yes. There’s a sigh, barely audible, and he says, “Maybe you should write a kiss book, Mommy. Someone might want to publish that.”

But I’m printing anyway, hoping the manuscript itself won’t smell of the smoky, maple bacon we had for lunch, or the brownies we plan to bake later, or end up with pink juice splattered on it courtesy of Kyra. She’s got her nose right up against the tray. She likes to grab the printed pages and hand them to me, but I won’t let her today, so she’s scowling.

So tomorrow the manuscript heads to NYC and I’ll be back to writing the 250.

Charity Tahmaseb wrote at 4:15 p.m.

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