I signed up on June 29 for the writers' conference. I signed up for just one pitching session since only one editor that is interested in my type of stuff was available by the time I signed up. I feel really good about taking this step. As soon as I did it, I felt a lot of relief. I can do this thing.

Then on July 5 I declared myself done with the final draft of Johnny Angel's Halo. That was another big step. Now I find that there is more editing to do, but it's not such a huge chore. I got through the big scene and the big cuts ai needed to do to get to the end of the book. Now I need to do some tying together of things and mind the editing suggestions my readers are giving me.

Thanks again for your comments and encouragement, Erin and Janice.

I suppose a first post should be all positive and upbeat and ooey-gooey to attract some friends, but instead I'm writing from my insecurity. Maybe that'll attract some friends, too, or it might make someone happy by making them realize, "Hey, at least I'm better off than that little bitch!" I love making people happy, so here goes:

It's really hard for me to say for sure whether I'm lazy or scared. I havne't gotten around to registering for the writing conference that's looming at the beginning of August. I have to do it in the next few days or the price goes up. So, if I'm serious about going, and I need to be serious about going if I'm serious about writing, then I need to get off my cushy tushy.

Am I an author or a mouse? Sometimes I don't know. Sometimes I feel like I'm nothing but a big fake.  "Have you had anything published?" people ask; they ask every writer that, all the time. When I say that I have, then I'm respected, legitimized. But do I deserve it? See, that's one of the things I don't know. I feel like a fake since it's been so long, and since I spend such large amounts of time goofing off, and I don't know what else. I know that I feel like a fake.

What's to be afraid of? Well, I have no one to go with. I will see people I know at the conference, but that's not the same thing. I am hard of hearing, and crowds roar. I can't hear what's going on with a lot of background noise. If I buy pitching sessions, will I be able to hear what the agent or editor is asking me? What if they think I'm not hard of hearing, but stupid? That happens, even with educated people. I hate that, and it wimpifies my ego. My ego's in the trashbin anyway. Why torture it more?

I fear failure. I fear success. I fear finishing the rewrite I'm on now because when it's done I'll have to do the next thing with it. This story's been kicking around for years, it's my baby, and I hate to let it get dragged over the coals, someone else's coals. Damn. I dont' know what to do. And I don't know what to say about not knowing waht to do.

Insecurity, thy name is Kathy.