My cousin got remarried two years ago to Dave, who loves to fly fish. He was here for only three days and spent many hours wading in the Boise River, pole in hand, fishing vest stocked with various flies, waving his line over the water … hoping, waiting, wishing, wanting. Whenever he got a little tug on his line, his face filled with anticipation. Could this be it? Is this the big one?

That’s me. The thrill I get when I send my manuscripts out to an agent or editor must be the same rush that Dave gets when he anticipates the possibility. There’s always that chance. That one in a million chance.

Sometimes I get a tug on my line (email) when an agent requests to see the full manuscript. That happened just recently. And now, like Dave, after I have thrown my fly (story) out, and there’s been a nibble, I’m filled with the anticipation that he or she will take the bait. And now, with my line drawn tightly and positioned to reel it in (an offer) … I wait.

Even if the fish goes free, and I go home at the end of the day empty-handed … (let’s hope not). 

The thrill of the possibility of a catch is invigorating all in itself.

The outside temperatures are rising and as I sit and look at the thermostat inside the house, it’s struggling to keep the house cool. My neice and nephew are visiting from California, and the children are restless from being indoors. I wish I could feel restless too, but these days and weeks have been a flurry of activity. All good stuff though. Very good.

So that means I have been writing late into the evening, up to one in the morning at times and finally …the revisions are done on my chapter book! Yay!

I will go celebrate with some yummy yogurt icecream after dinner and enjoy the evening with the family. Hope you all are having a wonderful summer!

The hills rolled by and the trees scattered across the plains like little soilders waiting in attention, and although they were just hills or just trees and it was just another blue sky day … I was in no ordinary place, I was on Prince Edward Island, the birthplace and inspiration of the famed author, Lucy Maud Montgomery.

I can’t tell you what a “thrill” it was to walk through the green gabled house where the fictional character “Anne” was born, to traipse down “Lover’s Lane” with my eight-year-old son and husband, and to creep through the “Haunted Forest,” all the imaginations of Anne. The heavily wooded patch and trail led to Diana’s home, at least in the book it did. But in real life it led to an 18 hole golf course where two elderly gentleman were tediously searching for their stray ball.

This experience in my small life gave me the will power to keep going on with my writing. I really do teeter back and forth about all the time and brain space writing takes away from my family and my life. I should celebrate the fact that I’m a creative soul but truthfully it seems like a real burden to me more than half the time and then the other half of the time there’s this compelling drive to not just write but to be published.

I asked my husband why he thought I wanted to be published so badly. Was it my ego or some other terrible flaw in my personality? He said something that I thought was profound and very helpful to me on many levels. He said, “You have a need to touch people; that connects you to them in an intimate way.”

Isn’t that a lovely way of putting it?

So today I’m back in front of this computer, pounding my fingertips on this keyboard, hoping to create or write something that will touch all of you. 

What I said before about resting from writing never happened. In fact, I think I’ve been writing more the past 10 days than I ever have. The SCBWI helped me find a critique buddy, a nice stay at home mom like me … named Grace, who gave me some excellent suggestions for BAREFOOT.

Although I did have a “rest” of sorts when we went to San Diego last week. I’ll post a picture of me and my hubby (our son was busy with his cousins). We got to see our family. Here are my thoughts about that:

Family is a place we go to remember who we are. They know all of our stories and sometimes there’s nothing new to talk about when we’re all together, and still somehow … it feels right.

It feels like HOME. 

I like flowers and sunny days, tea with cookies and pretty music,and moonlight that falls through the cracks in the window blinds. I LIKE a lot of things … but there’s one thing I don’t like right now: An obsessed me.

For the next 10 days I will take a rest. To clear my soul and mind from all the clutter, from the WORDS, from the waiting, hoping, dreaming, wanting …

This is a good thing.

I revise in my dreams. Really. It’s true. After spending the day writing and rewriting, my one eye began to twitch. I think it’s eye strain or possibly just nerves. I’m not sure. But the night that I actually saw my manuscript in my dream, the words moving about on the pages by the will of my thoughts … well, it has happened.

I AM FINALLY, REALLY, A WRITER!

Because my favorite mantra that I quote in my head all day long is: If you can DREAM it … then you can live it.

Okay, I dreamt it. I’m ready now …

Driving down the street it looks like a monstrous giant had an enormous pillow fight and all the white down is floating everywhere. It’s the cottonwood trees of course.

Where was I driving? To the post office to mail sample chapters to an agent who requested them. Yes, I was going to “give up” on this whole business of writing, but as soon as I felt defeat … I forced myself to query five more agents.

If only I were smart enough to give up … but I’m just not that smart.

So it seems.

No! This is NOT fun. Took my son to school and came home to a pile of laundry to fold, budget to reconcile, and dishes to wash but … that’s just a typical Monday. Right? The NOT FUN part is what popped up on my email while I flurried around the house.

A REJECTION.

Though it was a kind rejection and I appreciate that. Adam’s Literary wrote and I quote, “…it is all to often the case that we must turn away many talented individuals. The decision to accept a new client is one we take seriously, as we must be wholeheartedly committed to and enthusiastic about each and every project we represent.”

I want to give up.

NO. It’s not that I got a book contract or an offer for representation, though that’d be entirely lovely. Wouldn’t it? This is something else.

My friend Anya and her son Cole were having breakfast with my son and I last Saturday at this local eatery, when we had this very interesting discussion:

The boys were talking about what they want to be when they “grow up,” (ages 8 and 5). Cole wants to be a “space police officer.”

The whole conversation turned to current events as Virgin Galactic is in the process of producing space flights for civilians. Many big name movie actors are supposedly paying thousands of dollars, (I heard up to $100,000), to book flights into outer space. Names like Ashton Kutcher, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, are some that I’ve read about, anyhow.

Well, little Cole says, “Mommy, can we take a ride too?”

She responded very casually, “Oh no honey. We can’t afford to take a flight into space.”

I glanced over at her and said, “I can’t believe we’re having this discussion and it’s not science fiction, it’s for real!”

Truly, I never thought this day would come.

In between writing, revising and trying to find an agent, I had a party. The furniture was moved all around, made into cozy little sitting areas with small tables, flowers, candles, tiny lamps with fake flickering flames and … sparkly orange butterflies. My friends arrived with their favorite appetizer and a bottle of wine and we had a very grand time.

The party store sold these little lights that last up to eight hours long. Just twist and voila … it was so pretty! That was 24 hours ago and as I write here on my blog, I’m looking at the butterfly that I stuck inside one of the flower arrangements and the light is still flickering … weak but still making an attempt to stay alive.

I guess in a way, that’s me when it comes to the business of writing and trying to go forward to the next step, of finding an agent.

Trying to keep my little light of hope alive. That’s all I can do.