According to VISA, AT&T, and The National Association of Professional Women, I am.
Remember when I said I was getting real mail? Yeah, it’s added to it’s weight over the passed couple weeks or so. I actually open all of it, because although I don’t wish to take advantage of their “deals”, (After all, I am technically not even a ‘small business owner’) I like to read things like “Amanda! Your Pre-Approved!” and “Hey small business owner! Good job on that small business, you strong, independent woman, you!” (Yes, I know we have established what I am and am not. A small business owner).
Despite my attempts at clarification, I have been making small rounds as a “small business owner” and little by little I’m gaining cred. And there is something to be said about the moms at my kids school reading my smut. Lesson learned? We all have the same dirty part of the brain moving. Is it age? Is it kids? Is it marriage? Too much Sangria? Nope. It’s smut, and it’s awesome.
Like I have mentioned in my FB posts and so on, I have officially given an ‘End’ to my book. I even wrote ‘The End’ and it was liberating as hell. I danced, I sang, I poured some Iced Tea. It was a good day. Giving my book an ending was harder than I thought. It took me longer to write the two last chapters than the entire book combined. Ending your story, and putting your characters to (partial) rest is harder than you think it may be. In fact, it’s excruciating. I drafted a query letter to literary agents, I took out self help-ish type books at the library, and I have been on the internet finding writing contests and open submission calls. I’m in it to win it. You don’t know me! You don’t know me! This baby is 1000% percent his!
I also figured out that my book is considered a full length novel at 58,000-ish words. What separates a novella from a novel? 3,000 words. 55,000 and under is a novella.
Suck it, biatch!
Not at all grown up, but if you are following along and keeping score, I am NOT a grown up.
Declan and Maggie have come a long way and they still have a ways to go. It’s only my first book, but I have learned a lot from that little book. I have learned to let the little things go, to set limits for myself and finally, to be brave enough to WANT to let it go.
“Go the mile! Be the ball! See the goal! BE the goal!” Says imaginary gym teacher. “R-E-S-P-E-C-T “says Arthea.
After all, it’s like parenting. The beauty and the agony of being a mom is simply finding the strength to let go. (And drink a lot while being responsible enough to make decisions that shape your kids future.)
For my cheerleaders, you mean more to me than my corduroys. I love you.
I can do this. I AM doing this.
Do what makes you happy. While your doing that, eat a decent sandwich.
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