Amateur Hour

I just did a thing that I’m probably going to regret. I fired off the first 10,000 words of The Business of the Living to an editor. A real editor. The kind of editor you pay for. It’s a far cry from pitching a finished work to an agent, but it is a stone that’s setting up ripples in my tiny mental pond.

It’s not like a first date. It’s not like buying a car. It’s not like getting married, either. All of those things have some reasonable hope for a happy outcome. No, this is more like going in for a colonoscopy.

I prepped for it, all day (editing out adverbs, altering the font, dividing into proper chapters, combing for spelling errors, etc.). Paid the doc– uh– editor, and now I’m kind of numb. I’m waiting for the procedure to commence, and hoping only a few fixable problems will be found.