February, a small village in the south of France. I was standing in front of the fireplace at the bed and breakfast I was housesitting. I wasn’t experiencing peace per se but rather a sense of deep satisfaction. And it wasn’t from the cozy fire I was tending.
I had just finished my 14th (and final!) draft of my novel, Chasing Sylvia Beach. The peace came not from finishing it, but from feeling really good about it. Finally, after writing this book for ten years, I knew that it was good. It’s a good novel.
If you write or create, you know what a rare and beautiful thing it is to feel absolutely good about what you have produced.
Furthermore, I experienced a new commitment to see my book published. I decided then and there that it wasn’t an if, but a when. This is a novel about an amazing woman, Sylvia Beach, and I want more people to know and be inspired by her story.
My agent is shopping the novel around now. A bottle of prosecco is chilling in the refrigerator awaiting the big, good news that a publisher is making an offer. If that offer doesn’t come, I’ll take other avenues to publish Chasing Sylvia Beach.Now, It’s cold in my Victorian attic in Denver. I don’t have a fireplace to tend but an electric heater buzzing. I’ll use the deep, satisfying heat generated from my years of writing Chasing Sylvia Beach to warm me while I wait for news. Any advice on how I can keep the publication fires burning even while waiting? I welcome your comments.