Four years ago today, I awoke with one thought: “I’m going to write a novel.”
Little did I know that those six words would take me on the adventure of my life–the insanity that would follow this decision, the writing bliss, the brick walls I would bang my head against, or that I would be introduced to new amazing friends. No, I didn’t know the life change this one thought would bring at the time, or how the thought and choice would finally lead me to what I always wanted to do, but never knew it. And here I am, four years later, looking at my publishing contract in one hand and the publishers schedule, sent a few days ago, in the other.
After the last email from my publisher telling me that my MS was with the editor, I really didn’t know what to expect when I opened the attachment. Was my novel on the schedule? According to the contract they have six months from the date the galleys are approved to release my novel, so surely, I was looking for a summer, fall, or even winter 2014 release. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. I didn’t want to consider earlier in the year for fear of disappointment. I have long since dreamed of holding my novel in my hands, and I didn’t want to allow myself to think of March or April 2014 when actually the time frame was more like November or December 2014.
My heart pounded as I clicked on the attachment and clicked download. The seconds the computer took seemed like years, and then finally, up popped Microsoft Word and *gasp* the list.
The first page consisted of September and October releases, the second page was November and December. Surely, it wouldn’t be that soon. I still have to receive her editing notes back, make the changes, approve the galleys and cover, and send the ARC’s to review sites…and they need at least 3 months! I have to admit, even though, I’m dying to hold this book in my hands, I secretly prayed it wasn’t on the November or December list. That was just too soon for me. I continued to scrolled down to the third page for January and February of 2014 and stopped. In black and white, printed letters under “January” was the name of my novel and my name: The Woman on the Painted Horse by Angela Archer.
I had to catch my breath. Excitement began to bubble and I wanted to do the happy dance, shout from the roof, run around the house screaming, all the things a person does when they are over the moon ecstatic. January! January! January!
That’s only a little over 5 months away!!!
Wait a minute….*Gasp*
That’s only a little over 5 months away… Uh, that’s actually not a lot of time. Yikes! Now what?
What nothing, Angela. It’s time to get your butt into gear.