Going once, going twice...
Dear Live Journal,
Yikers. There's a--gulp--article about my writing self in San Diego's North County Times newspaper.
I'm thrilled and am a little scared because there's a detail in the first paragraph of the article that's not accurate: my book did not go to "auction." To clarify: I had three rejections. No highest bidder. No auction. Just a fabulous editor who took a risk on embracing an unpublished author. Pure, unadulterated luck, Watson.
(I giggle because the idea that it would go to auction sounds so glamorous--like there's some man at Sotheby's with a trilling voice holding up a coffee stained manuscript of STRAY in one hand and a gavel in the other and editors in the audience are raising their paddles in the air to acquire it. Of course, in the spirit of self-deprecating fantasy, there'd definitely be a hearty faction of audience members simply fanning themselves with their paddles, waiting for the more astute and literary bits o' lit that would follow.)
In any case, I'm grateful to have been interviewed by such a warm and lively reporter and to have a tiny place in the mind of a Sunday morning newspaper reader who's hopefully reading the Sunday paper in bed. Cat curled inside the crook of a bent leg and a mug of warm coffee on the nightstand. (I'm in a hotel room on the fifth floor of the Century Plaza Hotel without my Sunday paper, without a cat or dog or mug of coffee or warm lump of snoring husband by my side--perhaps I am a bit homesick.)
Hope everyone enjoys their Sunday.
Not auctioned but definitely grateful for what I have,
Stacey
Yikers. There's a--gulp--article about my writing self in San Diego's North County Times newspaper.
I'm thrilled and am a little scared because there's a detail in the first paragraph of the article that's not accurate: my book did not go to "auction." To clarify: I had three rejections. No highest bidder. No auction. Just a fabulous editor who took a risk on embracing an unpublished author. Pure, unadulterated luck, Watson.
(I giggle because the idea that it would go to auction sounds so glamorous--like there's some man at Sotheby's with a trilling voice holding up a coffee stained manuscript of STRAY in one hand and a gavel in the other and editors in the audience are raising their paddles in the air to acquire it. Of course, in the spirit of self-deprecating fantasy, there'd definitely be a hearty faction of audience members simply fanning themselves with their paddles, waiting for the more astute and literary bits o' lit that would follow.)
In any case, I'm grateful to have been interviewed by such a warm and lively reporter and to have a tiny place in the mind of a Sunday morning newspaper reader who's hopefully reading the Sunday paper in bed. Cat curled inside the crook of a bent leg and a mug of warm coffee on the nightstand. (I'm in a hotel room on the fifth floor of the Century Plaza Hotel without my Sunday paper, without a cat or dog or mug of coffee or warm lump of snoring husband by my side--perhaps I am a bit homesick.)
Hope everyone enjoys their Sunday.
Not auctioned but definitely grateful for what I have,
Stacey