No Way to Go but Up!

I'm currently up to chapter 12 in my editing journey. "Wallflower" is coming along nicely. I'm looking so forward to sending off the finished, polished product to agents everywhere. 
On top of my editing duties, I just found out that I need to revamp my second novel "Hibiscus, Believe" as well. 
I entered "Hibiscus" in the Page to Fame contest on Webook.com nearly a year ago. Slowly but steadily, my little fairy story climbed the ranks from level one to level three. Each time I was promoted to the next level, I lost more and more interest in the progress of this novel. I knew that the writing was sub-par. I've learned so much since I submitted that book to the contest. In reading it, I could see the glaring oversights that I couldn't see before, but I was powerless to change it...until now!
Since my little story has made it to round three, I will no longer be graded by webook readers. In round three, I will be rated by Webook reading pros as well as professional literary agents...Did you hear me??? I said AGENTS!! 
Webook informed me that I can now edit my book if I choose and take up to three months to resubmit my book for round three. 
SO...in addition to polishing "Wallflower", I must now go back and edit "Hibiscus, Believe". I don't mind the extra work. Anything to improve my writing is worth the time. :)

One Hippopotamus, Two Hippopotamus...

Things are much better today, but it seems I'm hippopotamus counting. Small goals, baby steps. I quit smoking on the ninth. Today is day three. My husband and I managed to keep from killing each other yesterday. (He's quitting too.) I think we're over the worst of it. 
Out of all the positive aspects of quitting, do you know what my main motivation is? I'll be able to sit longer at book signings and speaking engagements if I don't have to race out for a smoke. Jeez, I don't even have an agent yet. Hey, if you're gonna dream, why not dream big, huh? :) Wish me luck.

Swimming with the Fishes

Well, it's official. I have been thrust back into the pool of oblivion with the other fishes. In other words, I'm swimming with the fishes.
Remember a few entries back when I told you about the published author that agreed to read my work and give me a letter of recommendation? 
She has withdrawn her offer of assistance, claiming a tight schedule. I know she's a busy lady, but I don't think she has any idea how much I was depending on her. A recommendation from a respected author gives any struggling writer a leg up on the competition. Now, I'm no different from the rest. 
And to make matters worse, I was waiting for her impending letter before I sent off any queries to the agents I met at the conference. I've wasted valuable time waiting for her. 
Damn it. It's been two months. I hope they remember me.

Feeling Better

 As the title says, I'm feeling better. Not only has my health improved after being sick for a week, but my writing has become something I can be proud of. As any writer can relate, I've been battling procrastination and that little devil on my shoulder that whispers, "Your writing sucks!"
As I've mentioned in past posts, I purchased a book called "Word Painting" to help me with my descriptive prose. As much as I can absorb the information, it seems to be working, but at the very least, reading the book inspires me. 
Below is the beginning of my book "Wallflower". I'll give you a before and after example of how "Word Painting" has improved my descriptive ability:

Before:

“Where am I? Oh, God! Where am I?” A young lady, waifish in stature, calls out in terror. Distraught she spins in circles, trying desperately to take in her blurry surroundings. Where is this place? How did I get here?

“Please, someone help me.” She whimpers. There are people, lots of them, and books, rows and rows of books. It’s a library, but how?

After:

“Where am I? Oh, God! Where am I?” A young lady calls out in terror. Distraught, she spins in circles, trying desperately to take in her blurry surroundings. Where is this place? How did I get here?

“Please, someone help me.” She whimpers. The sound of her own voice is a strangled echo in her head. Between a blinking strobe of darkness and reality, she sees people, lots of them, and books, rows and rows of books. She knows it’s a library, but how? How did she get here?

See the difference? Sure, it adds to the word count, but I now feel secure that the reader will be able to place themselves into the action rather than being an outside observer.

That's all I had to report for today. What's in store for me tomorrow? More writing, and I'm looking so forward to it. :) 

TTYS