I’m girding my loins to do something brave. No, I don’t know what exactly that means, either. Sounds painful. But it’s time to suck it up and stick my neck out. Like Marie Antoinette, only awaiting the rejection rather than the guillotine.
As a side note, can you imagine lying (or laying) stretched out, under the guillotine, for three to six months, waiting for the blade to drop?
Or spreading a wax strip along your eyebrow and waiting three to six months to rip it off?
Sending the book of your heart to your dream editor requires extensive loin girding.
But…screw it. The worst she can say is no, right?
Well, I guess she could say “What the f–k are you sending me this horrific shit for, you pathetic, no-talent hack?” but I’m guessing she wouldn’t actually write that. I would simply infer that from “Thank you for the opportunity to review Book of Your Heart. Unfortunately, I fail to share your enthusiasm for this project, but wish you luck in placing it elsewhere.”
(Side note to Jaci—That whole spiel I gave you about my new & improved focus? You already knew that was going to last about five seconds, right?)
dumbass. and yes, I knew.
just send the book.
Send the book.
Send the book.
So is it in the mail yet? Send it, send it, seeennnd iittt. :nod:
Send the damn thing already. You can’t sell it if it’s hiding under your bed. Or on your hard drive.
Don’t make me sic my killer baby squirrels on you!
I don’t need killer baby squirrels. I have a whacko skunk.
I don’t have enough freakin’ paper to print the partial. :bang:
So got cut down a tree, mash it up, dry it out, and cram it into the printer.
Or find a Staples.
No excuses. :whip:
Someone grab the taser. I’ll drive.
Oh, I am so coming along on that ride.
Send it, Shan.
*wiggle* Very exciting. :boogie: