Here’s an odd thing. After writing religiously for three months and still managing to bash out my blog each Sunday, I returned home and FORGOT MY BLOG!
There were some extenuating circumstances, but I was truly gobsmacked when a friend asked when my next episode would appear and I realised that Sunday had well and truly passed and the blog hadn’t so much as crossed my mind.
For the first few days at home I was just amazed at being back in Narooma and wrestling with returning to work. I had anticipated that I would have some re-entry challenges and I wasn’t wrong. Plugging back into email and skype and busting early morning and late night calls with colleagues around the world was a bit of a shock to the system after my fancy-free sabbatical.
But rediscovering Narooma was a joy and I managed to get out for a few lovely walks on the beach, revelling in the blue skies, roaring waves and cruising sea eagles.
While I was in France I regularly pulled out this picture when explaining to people where I lived and was always smugly satisfied to see their gobsmacked faces at the awesome beauty of my home. It was heaven to be back.
Then on the weekend I buzzed up to Canberra for the wedding of my dear friend Amanda.
It was a gorgeous day and so wonderful to see Amanda blissed-out and glowing as she married her beloved Colin. I was only sad that HWB wasn’t there to share the joy since he was still disporting himself in Malta.
Week two was enlivened by a travel drama when HWB missed his flight connection in Dubai, and I went into emergency rescue mode, desperately rescheduling flights and hotels to get my husband home. And of course we had to celebrate our reunion, which culminated in a decision to stay up all night and watch the sun come up down at Handkerchief Beach.
It was cold on the shore, but the beauty of the slowly emerging dawn colours behind Barranguba was breathtaking. The only downside was that sleep was the order of the day on Sunday – and I missed a second blog date.
I’ve been reflecting on this dereliction of my blogging duties and I guess I must have had a subconscious desire for a bit of a writing holiday after such concerted and sustained effort. Anyway, I’m back now and will continue to send out my Sunday missives until the end of the year or until I sign a publishing contract, whichever happens first.
Because I’m now in full-on pre-publishing mode. I have thrown myself into research on the complicated process of taking my manuscript from first draft to agent-ready perfection and it’s a bit daunting.
Stage one is to share my baby with a few carefully selected ‘beta readers’ (thanks Jean, Hannah, Julie, Bronny, Weed, Sue and Jeanne!). These valiant friends have agreed to take my book for a test drive and come back to me with frank and fearless feedback. I’m quivering at my computer as I await their responses. If they say it’s rubbish I’m going to have to take a good hard look at myself and my aspirations.
Ever the optimist, however, I’m working on the assumption that they might think it shows promise, and so I’m beginning to investigate manuscript assessment services, literary agents and publishers. I’ve secretly identified the agent that I hope shall be mine, and after forensically interrogating their author listing I took myself to the library to get my hands on as many examples of their recently published work in my genre as I could find. I want to be able to speak confidently about how well my work will complement their stable of writers – the book pile is huge.
I’ve also reformatted my manuscript, converting it to the required specifications – Times New Roman font, 12 point, double spaced, 3cm margins… These guys seem to be extraordinarily picky about such things, and I don’t want to end on the slush pile of rejection just because I failed to note their margin preferences.
And I can’t conclude without mentioning one last thing. It’s my birthday today 🙂 I revved myself up to make sure that 51 was the year of writing. Today my intention is firmly focused on making 52 the year of publishing…