On a whim, I decided to send the first novel I ever wrote off to Harlequin Intrigue today, something I've had filed away since 2008. I had to do it fast, hit the send button and go, before I could really think about it, worry about how awful it is, how cliched and amateurish.
It was an impulsive thing to do, but I often do impulsive things. Some of the best things I've done in my life were impulsive actions. So, fuck it, I figured, why not.
Like I've mentioned in the past, I struggle with depression and anxiety. I've been in a real rut lately and sending off this manuscript brightened my day a little. Waiting around, stalking my inbox for my rejection letter will give me something to think about while I wallow in the gray, February abyss.
And I will be getting a rejection le...
Please subscribe to keep reading.