First I lose my name, Sharon Kane, and then I lose the Minotaur contest. I really didn't expect to win, but I thought a critique would be forthcoming. Am I delusional to think I was worthy of a critique? What was I thinking?
Truly, I'm not whining, I'm confused at my own actions. I sent a query to six agents before the contest--one requested the first fifty pages. I sent them to her. She responded quickly, said she loved it, and requested the full ms. Did I send it? Noooo, I decided to enter the Minotaur contest instead. Again... what was I thinking?
Last summer I met an editor, in a waiting room, at New York Hospital. The retired editor felt our meeting was serendipitous, long story short, I sent her the ms. She loved it and compared me to Janet Evanovich... a blend of crime and comic relief. This lovely woman went on to say that I should start the sequel right away because the publishers will expect one to be in the works. Did I start it? Noooo. It's apparent I'm not thinking, I'm floundering!
Obviously the road is difficult enough without me setting up my own roadblocks. Any suggestions?
Oh, if you're thinking therapy... my friend is a therapist and she said, "Get over it and get on with it!"