I have NEWS! And it needs my undivided attention! I won’t go into specifics except to say that if there was ever an incentive to finish the spit-polish on my MS, it’s this.

Which brings me to my Two Week Goal. I’m giving myself two weeks — 14 days/336 hours/20,160 minutes — to REVISE and QUERY. Why two weeks? Well, I’m almost there. All I need is a little push, a reasonable deadline (that I can be accountable for), to get me closer to the next step. But there’s always a bit of a risk when you’re about to send out that first batch of queries. What if *gasp* you think it’s ready but it’s really not? For me, that means my MS runs the risk of fatal Too-Soon-itis. And we all know how that goes.

So let me take you on a little journey to illustrate how querying too soon is like taking a trip to the ER:

• You make the obvious decision to go to the hospital because you have a broken arm/volatile stomach/third eye/no eye/other grotesque injury.

• You see a sign on the hospital door that says STOP! FALLING BRICKS ABOVE!

• You shrug because it’s a HOSPITAL and you’re SICK and no bricks are falling on your head. Stupid sign.

• You check in with the gum-smacking receptionist and take a seat in the germ-infested waiting area.

• You realize how bad waiting is going to suck because all you want to do is get through Triage and see a dang doctor for your broken arm/volatile stomach/third eye/no eye/other grotesque injury. But you’re stuck waiting it out in an area that’s too small, too packed, and too smelly for comfort.

• To pass the time until someone calls out your name, you decide to: read a magazine/suck at Sudoku/moan/cry for your Momma/play Hangman without the paper or pencil/plant your ass at the reception desk and tap your finger on the counter until someone pays attention to you. (I don’t suggest this last option because chances are good the guard standing by the sliding glass door is bored out of his mind and is itching–ITCHING–to throw a sucker to the curb.)

• FINALLY your name is called (and with minimal butchering of your last name) after just ten hours of waiting!

• You drag your tired and cranky and now-smelly body to Registration where you give every pertinent detail of your life and promise your first-born child/cat/dog/cupcake to a woman who eyes the small-hand on the clock like she’s getting paid to do that instead of processing your info.

• You wait again.

• Twenty-one hours later and a nurse with a glowing halo above her head and a parade of silky white doves following her every step, calls you back.

• You say a silent prayer and hope it’s really you she’s talking to.

• You gleefully tell the ER Doctor (who’s none too pleased at having drawn the short straw) all about your broken arm/volatile stomach/third eye/no eye/other grotesque injury. No detail is too small to leave out. This is your LIFE we’re talking about here.

• ER Doctor jabs you in parts you didn’t think you could get jabbed.

• After thirty seconds, she tells you your ailment was all in your head and if you just take this discharge sheet and follow the security guard outside, he’ll make sure you get to your car alright (and put you on the Never Allowed Back To The Hospital Again list).

• You drive  home, stare at the wall for a few days/weeks/months, then Eureeka! You realize maybe that ER Doctor was onto something. Maybe you just had a case of the Too-Soons and a good scour or ten in the shower was all you needed to bypass the ER waiting room in the first place.

Obviously, I’ve taken some liberties with this analogy. I mean c’mon — a third eye??? Regardless of how many orbital outlets someone does or doesn’t have, the point is that if you query too soon, your subconscious probably already knows this but you’ll most likely ignore it anyway and submit. And you know what? You might even get a request from Dream Agent’s assistant. Take that stupid subconscious! But if you queried too soon and are lucky enough to get past the slush reader, chances are pretty dang good you’ll get a big, fat “Not for me” from your Dream Agent. And when that happens, you’re pretty much SOL on querying that particular MS to Dream Agent again.

Why take the chance of ignoring sound advice when all you need is a rigorous scrub or two? Scrubbing is good, peeps. Use whatever you can — loofahs, that body wash with the exfoliating beads, good old-fashioned washcloth — just make sure you wash behind your ears and get between your toes. Your Dream Agent will thank you for it.

Maybe something like this:

Because it’s the coolest feeling to stamp THE END on something you loved writing. I’m proud of my first-draft LIFE AFTER SEND baby.

Ending first draft count: 83K

This is me excited: @#*&*?$%^$!=?*&#.

Why am I so excited to start revising? Because this will be a first for me. I’ve never (and I’m totally embarrassed to admit this) EVER done a second draft before. I’m a chronic first-draft heart-breaker.

Here’s how my story relationships usually go down:

Day One:

Me: I <333333 YOU SHINY NEW IDEA!!!!! I CAN’T WAIT TO WRITE YOU!!! Wanna go steady? Like, right now? You + Me = 4EVAH.

Shiny New Idea: Duh, silly! I <3 you too! I’ve been trying to get your attention, for like, WEEKS! Took you long enough to notice my shinyness.

Week Two:

Me: I don’t understand what happened between us. The spark…I mean, things were going so fast. So deliciously fast. And now…well, you’re just so weird sometimes. I don’t get you anymore. You’ve changed, Shiny New Idea.

Shiny New Idea: What do you mean??? This has always been me. Maybe YOU’VE changed. Have you thought about that?

One Month Later:

Me: Um…so I’ve been meaning to talk to you…this “thing” between us? Yeah, I’m not so sure it’s working out. The chemistry…I don’t think it’s there anymore.

Not So Shiny New Idea: But…but…you’re right. It WAS me. I changed. A little. But I didn’t think you’d notice. I’ll go back to how it was. I’ll be shiny again. PROMISE. Just…just…give me another chance. PLEEEEEASE.

Me: I’ll think about it.

One Month + One Day Later:

Me: Okay…one more week. ONE.

Not So Shiny New Idea: You won’t regret this. Pinky swear.

One Month + One Week Later:

Me: Sooooooo. It’s been a week. And…it just wasn’t as good for me as I thought it would be. You’ll always have a place in my heart, Not So Shiny New Idea. But I really think we should take a break. Like, the permanent kind. I might even *gasp* move you into my No-Go First Draft folder.

Not So Shiny New Idea: Wh-wh-what???????????? I’ll change again. I just need a little more time. Just give me—

Me: Sorry, Not So Shiny New Idea. But there’s someone else.

So you see, my first draft relationships have been kind of flat. But not so with NOT THAT GIRL LIFE AFTER SEND (oops, I keep forgetting I had to change the title because of a title snafu that made me think I might as well nip that in the butt from the get-go, know what I mean?). Because LIFE AFTER SEND is my loverly. I <3 it. A lot. And my fellow YAFFers seem to like it, too. I’m working with my mentor on the synopsis right now. I do not like the synopsis. I now realize why everyone calls it sucknopsis. Because it does. Suck.

I’ll post tomorrow…hopefully with the news that I finished LIFE AFTER SEND.

Like cooking dinner (what’s wrong with Hungry Man?). Cleaning the house (cobwebs don’t bother me in the least). Paying attention to family and friends (although I don’t neglect diaper-changing duties. For obvious ick reasons). Blogging. Yes, sadly this blog is in much need of TLC. But that will have to wait. Until after April 6 <–I’m determined to finish by this date. De-termined.

So I’m going to leave you blog readers (if you’re still there, that is) with one of Inkygirl‘s charming and oh-so-true comics that depicts the writerly writing life of a writer. This particular comic sums up my situation to a tee. (And if you haven’t checked her out, you must.)