Today I’m going to spend the day drinking lots of coffee and working on finishing the tense shift on the novel
that I wrote almost two years ago and then left neglected on the floor of my husband’s closet and then moved to Charlotte where it is at least in my office now?
Why, you might be wondering, have I suddenly found the motivation to get back to working on it. Aside from, you know, the impending deadline I gave myself of February. Well, you need a little back story first.
Mr. Husband coaches football for a private university here in Charlotte. It was a tremendous opportunity, even if he has worked his tail off for free. The experience he’s received from this internship alone could set us up for life. Never mind the connections he’s made and all the people who have been able to see what he is capable of. One of the fellow coaches on staff is none other than Mike Minter who played for the Panthers for 10 years.
Well, we went to Mike’s Christmas party last night
in his home which is by far the most gorgeous and elaborate home I’ve ever stepped foot in. Two women come over and ask if they can sit where I’m sitting. You know, where Mr. Husband left me sitting alone stuffing my face at a party I knew no one! I say sure and we exchange small talk. The woman across from me has written a memoir and is telling me how it’s going to be published on July 3rd, etc. Finally after a while and after running out of things to talk about, I asked how they knew each other.
The woman with her was her editor. Inside I was jumping up and down. But somehow, even after the two glasses of wine I downed, I managed to keep my cool on the outside.
We all bonded during a game of Dirty Santa which is by far one of the most hilarious games I’ve ever played at a Christmas party and HIGHLY recommend it if you’re planning you’re own. So when Mr. Husband and I went to leave, the editor woman shouted out to us to come say goodbye. She hugs me and we exchange “lovely to meet yous,” and we’re about to part.
I ask her what type of editor she is at which point she tells me she works with all different types of novels. I mention mine.
“But it’s Young Adult,” I add. “So I understand if that’s not something you work with.”
“No,” she says. “I love Young Adult. Do you have your phone with you? Let me give you my number.”
While I’m adding her number in my phone, she asks, “So this is a book in you?”
“No,” I say. “It’s on paper. I wrote it just before he and I got married,” I gesture to Mr. Husband.
She looks shocked. “You’ve already written it? Please, be in touch!”
And that’s the story of how I met an editor. An editor who might actually be interested in working with my novel. While I understand this is all just a chance meeting and it could very easily fall through, you have to start somewhere. And this, for right now, is my somewhere.