Confessions of Intimidation
I've sat on this story for nearly a year. I've stewed and hemmed, and fussed and fumed. And yet, I never went any further on the story that I was once so passionate about. Last year, before the beginning of the New England RWA Conference, those of us who were signed up for an agent/editor meeting were asked to send out 10 pages in advance. This was so that the editors/agents could have a chance to read through the material and determine whether the submission in question was something they were interested in reading. In theory, this was a great idea. But only if the editor/agent liked the submission. In my case, she found it boring and she used the word "lazy" in describing the method in which I had used to parlay some of the initial information.
I've always detested people who place blame for their problems on others. More often than not I am the first to admit when I've done something wrong (much to the amazement of my day job boss). So why should I blame this editor/agent for my lack of initiative? I can't. If I give up, she wins. If I continue, I can't fail. Either way, I write the book I want to tell.
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