The sun is out. I am awake. There are no thoughts in my head.

I sit down, duty-bound, to write.

I had a dream last night. A couple of students did not want to enter my classroom because I was boring and useless. I had woken to let the cat out and was wondering at that strange hour (2.22 am) why I was feeling so bad. The previous day had been a good one. I have my AWOL submitted to five literary agents and I am quite pleased, if not a little scared; I hate rejection.

AWOL has taken up many hours of late, the editing and re-editing and the re-re-editing and the pitch, the elevator pitch, and the synopsis (with spoilers). I really think that have tried to do it justice. I really think that I have done the best that I can do without stealing the soul of Stephen King.

My easy route out of all this is to not put myself through it.

I could self-publish and count the pennies coming in on a monthly basis. I could count the reads it receives on my blog. I could count the reviews and stars. I could count myself lucky that this really doesn’t mean all that much to me. But I could count on the ‘new me’ to remind the ‘new me’ that it does count. This is the path that I have chosen and this is the path that I am on.

In the meantime, wish me luck. I have taken the time to acknowledge the existence of a supreme deity as an insurance policy.

Please, please, please…

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