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By and For Inland NW Writers

One year, three weeks, and two days ago I sat down and stared at my keyboard and expected it to magically do something.

So I'm not like Carrie, nothing happened.

Let's see what happens when i poke a key.

Ooh, it did something.

Let's repeat that and see what happens.

1,239,613 strokes and five weeks later a book was wrapped.

Huh. That was easy. Perhaps too easy.

Let's try that again.

941,489 key strokes and four weeks later a sequel was wrapped.

Huh. Again. That was easy. Perhaps too easy. Am I the only one that is seeing a pattern here?

Third times a charm for failure, right?

879,720 key strokes and four weeks later a third installment was wrapped (With questionable ending that I will look at later)

Okay, it is official. I am a freak. Or, perhaps, writers are just bitchy primadonnas that need to man-up because this writing thing, isn't that damn hard.

Fast Forward one year and two weeks later from the moment I stroked the T on a snowy January day, a record setting snowfall that winter, not that that is important. I get an email from Cari at TribeLit asking for a phone call so we can discuss my 9 day brain fart Undiluted Minds that I was querying.

Representation offered and accepted. Like a mindless, shocked, stoned, and flabbergasted zombie, I strolled down the hall to the guest bathroom and threw up the 3oz of Starbucks 8 pump Venti extra ice, with whip, skinny iced white chocolate mocha. Once I threw up, what I am pretty confident was a kidney or some other organ that I could have sold for grocery money, I walked into my bedroom and stretch out next to my sleeping husband (he works nights) and shove my finger in his nose, my typical way of waking him he doesn't want woke, and say "They like me, they really like me." Being the half awake old cynical hobbit that he is he says, "Good, go clean the house." My response, "Blow me."

Overwhelming romance aside, I stumbled back to the computer and answered the 10 emails screaming at me wanting to know how the call went. Then Jolyn called from work, her little Wisconsin accent making me giggle, I could listen to her say BUBBLER all day. *le sigh*

So now here I sit with a massive amount of words to write, projects to finish, and fan base to maintain while trying to get into a publishing house. I remember when I used to finish a 84K manuscript in 14 days, 247K in 5 weeks, and now I can't get the last 25K pounded out on a WIP, yet I can write 35K on one that I started from scratch, and shouldn't be working on according to my writing planner that Jolyn got me, and I feel as if I haven't accomplished anything.

Good god, I want coffee and have turned into a rambling girl.

That sucks.

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