... then I must be elevated to the sainthood by now. It's two months since my soon to be ex-agent gave my first three chapters to a publisher and he still hasn't heard back from them. I am in limbo, 9000 words from the end, sort of at the last camp before ascending the Himalayan peak, but without oxygen. Or that's how it feels. Where is my ice axe?
1 comment:
One ice axe in the post. :-)
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