Hey everyone. I’m still here.
Last week my literary agent literally went out of business. After three years of minimal-to-no effort on his part, I probably wouldn’t have even known the difference, except that he takes with him the peace of mind attendant on a process of elimination occurring in the background. He wasn’t a particularly good representative, but at least he was able to get in the door with publishers who don’t interface directly with the hoi polloi. Now, it’s up to me to put in the submissions legwork once again.
So that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.
Over the weekend I gave A Sea Sought in Song its umpteenth editorial pass. I tweaked a few sentences here and there and caught a single typo in 116,600 words: I’d written “bad” when I meant “bag.” Now my debut novel is advancing once more into the breach, dear friends. I’m not through with this story—not by a long shot. I’m ready to forget the bad and get that bag.
Coincidentally, last month I finally made the incision and sunk my teeth into the second half of Book Three. Things are happening.
This story’s gonna make it outta my computer alive, whether by hook or by crook.