Query letter, pummeled into submission, shown the brutalized corpses of its predecessors and briefed on expectations.
Synopsis dragged screaming from my brain, told to straighten up and fly right, and slapped unceremoniously into a word document.
Query tracking spreadsheet, to everyone's surprise turned up for active duty without a complaint, self formatted and with some nifty drop down boxes.
Book written.
Two words. Because compared to everything else, the book was the easy part. What a bizarre industry.
Now I'm off to become the worlds most famous author. Or at least to have a copy of my book I can hold in my hand. I'll settle for that one, in case the first thing is already taken.
Is it taken?
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