Disarm the Devil...yeah, but

So it would seem that somebody out there is interested in publishing my book! L & L Dreamspell Publishers has offered me a contract. I know. I'm fairly certain there's been a mistake. Still, I've been told that if all goes according to plan, my first (really second) novel will be released about 12 months from now. Things in my mind have suddenly shifted from "I wonder if/when" to "What could go wrong now?" It's the curse of the ever-anxious. Good news is only as good as your ability to ignore the little devil perched on your left shoulder. You know the guy. He's the one there to remind you not to count your chickens before they hatch. He's the one that says "Yeah, BUT..." to every positive thought you dare entertain. I.E.:

I will finally see my manuscript evolve into something I can hold in my hands!
Yeah BUT, so will everyone else. What if people hate it?

One year will go by fast. Before I know it I will be a published author.
Yeah BUT that's assuming the publisher doesn't disband/change their mind/anything bad that equals squashing the whole deal.

For anyone, if there's anyone at all beside me keeping track...this has been a long time coming. The goal now is to disarm the devil. They say it's not the destination so much as it's the journey. Getting there has to be part of the experience, part of the fun. Yeah, but I'm so damn impatient, nervous, READY. Or not.

Torture Check List

Quickie Post. Topic - Things to Do to Torture Yourself:

Affix Krazy Glue to eyelashes. Let dry. Peel, slowly.

Query literary agents for representation.

Roll naked body over bed of razor blades followed by rolling in bed of salt, slowly.

Forward requested material to agent. Wait, wonder, wither and wilt. In that order.

Visit oral surgeon for scheduled root canal. Refuse Novocaine. Instead suggest the biggest needle. Plunge excessively. Do not rinse.

Receive rejection pile with enthusiasm. Write even though you're fairly certain you suck.

Face new day with hope.

Write something new.

It's dogs, not diamonds for this Girl

A recent statistic reports that 33% of pet-owning married women think that their dogs are better listeners than their husbands. That's 1 in 3. I'd have guessed higher. Actually who are these other two ladies and what IS their problem, exactly?

Now, grant you I am unmarried, officially speaking, though I share my life with a significant other by another last name. Good man. Cooks a mean BBQ dinner. Hasn't forgotten his manners. Washes himself consistently. But I'll admit to having to repeat myself on more than one occasion and not just when I'm (nagging) reminding him about something. My pup, on the other hand, gives a whole new meaning to "shut up and listen." Just last night, there I was collapsed in the easy chair, feet up, exhausted and indulging a bitch-fest. "Miley, you just wouldn't believe the week I've had. Work is draining me, the bills are piling up, the vacuum cleaner broke down, I've got a bit of writers block, and I found a new wrinkle I never had before." She didn't offer much in the way of advice, but she saw fit to curl up in the tiny space on the ottoman, just beside my leg, and rest her chin on my ankle. She shot me a look that said, "It's over now. You lived to tell. Let's just chill here for a while. It'll all be fine."

It was precisely what I was hoping she'd say. I rubbed her back. A few minutes later I gave her

a pat on the head. "Miley, thanks for never having anything better to do. You're the best."

She spoke again, this time with just a nod. "I hear ya'."

Better than diamonds by a country mile.