While sitting in a nasty smelling Tucson [my husband is a fisherman so the fishy odors are part of the package] this past Wednesday night, reading reviews from the latest RT Bookclub I came across an article about a new electronic publisher who is looking for submissions to their Late Escape line [baby boomer-aged heroes and heroines].
Baby boomers. Right up my alley. No one is more attractive to me than a man who's been around the block a time or two and is past needing to suck in his gut because he thinks it hypes the attraction factor. Unh huh, pal. Make me laugh and I'm your slave for life.
Baby boomers. Right up my alley. No one is more attractive to me than a man who's been around the block a time or two and is past needing to suck in his gut because he thinks it hypes the attraction factor. Unh huh, pal. Make me laugh and I'm your slave for life.
I went home, dusted off a short story I wrote long ago and never found a home for, tweaked it a bit, and submitted to this publisher first thing Thursday morning. Then I set out to create a second author name. It didn't take as long as I feared. Veronica Lynch is a legend among the women in my family. One of the first single women in Syracuse NY who proved a woman didn't need a wedding ring on her finger to be worthwhile. My kind of feminist role model.
On Friday I received an email from the publisher, saying they loved it, wanted to contract it, would I consider making it longer? Sure thing, I said. Not so easy, at it turns out, but I managed to get it to 5200 words. Sent it in Sunday afternoon. Fingers remain crossed.
On to creating a blog. A website [heh heh] will come later. Much later. Likely never.
Slainte
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