Instant Perfectionism

I'm so glad I have a jet tub. Why would anyone spend the better part of thirteen hours laboring over the first ten pages of a novel? Is it obsession? No, that's a perfume. 

I think I've polished those pages as much as my talent allows. They're ready to show. Well, at least they're ready to show to my friendly English teacher slash fantasy fan who agreed to read them for me. Then, I'll probably take her comments and do this again tomorrow. 

The good news is that there's an agent who is actually going to read those pages once I get them in the mail to her, and I need to do it quickly. There is a little catch, though. I still have to write a synopsis. I can do that. What's a synopsis? I was familiar with the word, but had no idea what it entailed in relation to a marketing a novel. 

The good news is that I received email instructions. The bad news is that I have to condense over 300 pages of novel into one page containing twenty-five lines (or fewer) of twelve point text. Oh, goody.

When I finish this, I'm going to have my husband drive me to the Post Office, and get it in the mail. After that, I'm signing on for a forty-eight hour voluntary coma.