Saturday, September 11, 2010

Dear Lord Don't Let Me Pee Myself

Coming up at the end of this month, I'll be attending the Wrangling With Writing, writer's conference in Tucson, Arizona to pitch my two finished novels, Alkonost-A Tattoo Awakens and McDracula.

Needless to say, I've queried the first one to every agent seeking paranormal and urban fantasy on the planet, but I'm not giving up yet. I've held off on the self-abuse for McDracula preferring to horde the pain and desperation inside me until it's fairly bursting to explode on the first agent to cross my path.

As the days speed by, seemingly increasing with velocity, the closer I come to the 24th, I find my stomach becoming a knot of starving nerves. I eat everything within reach, even pencil eraser is tasty these days, especially dipped in Ranch dressing. By the time I make it to the 24th I'm going to be so fat, I'm going to look like a Realtor with a glamour shot on my business card, totally unrecognizable from the original.

I'm certain I'm going to do something to totally embarrass myself, no, I'm not being fatalistic, I'm being me. I'm just hoping I don't pee myself, maybe I'll buy some of those old lady diapers before the pitch session just in case. Wish me luck.

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