I did it. Third time's a charm.
After three rounds of revisions on my middle grade novel, this is also the third time completing revisions, I can safely report. . . I'm getting there.
As an author, I'm learning that sometimes you just have to call the thing done. I did it with my memoir, with my picture books, and even with the personal essays I write. But something feels so different as I'm getting nearer to sending this manuscript out to publishers. Like living, breathing publisher guru types. It feels more wobbly and unclear.
I feel done, but this may only be the beginning. It's that same water-up-the-nose feeling, but I press on.
I do it because I love it.
Yesterday, I emailed this new revised manuscript to my agent with a pounding in my chest. I desperately want it to be right this time. I wanted to get it to her with some urgency though because the agency sends out a sort of newsletter at the beginning of October, stating authors and works they've got out on submission, and I am hopeful for some editor's eyes. Now.
At this point, I don't feel like there is much to change to my story. I've cut nearly 10,000 words from the last version and it feels properly paced, punchy even. I've added illustration notes throughout and even worked a bit of the story into the actual page with font colors.
Because I can't sit idle for very long, I have already (in the last 37 minutes) drafted a new picture book and hope to revisit my adult novel next week. These ideas are begging to come out, I tell you. If only my time matched my will.
Until next time. . .
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