I believe that I have gotten over the hump. I mean the really big hump. The hump of actually writing a... a... well anything. I have written poetry for years, mostly for myself and some published in dish rags around here, but somewhere in my inconstant brain I decided on sitting down to write a story and ... I did.
Not to sound...well... weird, but the creative part for me has always been a lesser hump than actualizing my creative aspirations in any way because invariably you end up having to do some dreaded business. Ugh. My skin tingles at the sound. Plus, I really don't know my arse from my elbow when it comes with doing the business of being a writer. (Why is it that we prepare our artists so well to be creative geniuses and I am by no means a creative genius and then send them out into the world not knowing anything about marketing? - another day I suppose.)
Enter the internet. After months of searching around some author's websites and milling around places like Writers Market and Agent Query and, and, and... I feel like I wrapped my head around what I need to do. So. So. So, I wrote my query letter. I have done two mechanical edits on my manuscript and have my list of desirable agents in a nifty little word document on my computer from most desirable to least desirable. For the agents that want their queries snail mail I have a roll of stamps, #10 envelopes and printed return address labels. I got a new printer, so my queries would be crisp and professional. I got a new computer so I could finish the other two books that are in the series I am writing. I got myself signed up to every legitimate writing website I could. I bought books on marketing yourself as a writer. I got on my space and facebook and I am getting a website. I have spoken to writers I know. I have read articles on writing and what agents want. I have read countless agent websites. I have re-read my manuscript four...or is it five... times...
And I stare at my query letter every morning. My goal is to send it out by the end of January. I actually sweat every time I think about it. I sweat. Its not pretty, I assure you. Right now, writing this I am nauseous. I feel sort of like a climber who has spent a year exercising and researching all the right tools and equipment for the climb, but when he gets to the mountain...
I guess we'll see what happens next. I know I will send the queries in. Just one more small edit to the manuscript, then it will be satisfactory.
I don't even know why I am writing this... Oh yeah. Nobody will read it and its a great way to postpone actually working on my writing.