Answering queries takes a while (thus the closing to submissions once in a while) so there's every chance that even if you query when they reopen in ... October? November?... it might not get read until December, by which time you'll be much closer to an edited draft.

Short answer: yes, query when they reopen.

Thanks, Amy--that's where my instincts lie. It's just so nervewracking. I really want to sell this book, not just because I want to sell sooner rather than later, but because I love the story so much and want to get it out there so other people can love it too. And I believe this particular agent would improve my chances a lot. But I also want to make sure I take the time to make the story as strong as it can be, both to improve its chances and because it deserves better than to be told in a half-assed slapdash manner.

Lunch drive-by:

Yeah, Allyson! And yeah, Deb. The Kincaid Chron's. should so be publishable -- I can't imagine that they won't be.

And on the drabble, I have no time for 100 words, so...

I retreat into my Teaching Cave.

Bye!

(this is from a glorious memory I got back with some music, just today.)

Animal

A bright October afternoon, celebrating the huge unexpected royalty cheque with a nice dinner before your gig.

I remember the blue velvet jacket; I remember a lot of things. I don't remember what you ate. I know what I ate.

Back at the Keystone, there's no one there; guy lets us in the backstage door and leaves. We're hours early.

You check the piano, we look at each other. Grin. The heat's rising.

Into the tiny bathroom. You, up against the sink with your trousers half-down, me on my knees.

Two rutting animals in a porcelain cave, and loving it.

My cave drabble. I learned something about myself writing it. There are two caves in her mind. One is the warm welcoming place where she would like to be able to bring her friends and loved ones to protect them when she feels they need protecting.She pictures the firelight flickering on the cave walls and herself smiting enemies with a big pointy stick.

The other cave isn’t a choice, but a sentence. When she is depressed and rejected, it is hers. Empty, cold, and far from the hearing of others, it is the place where she ventures forth seldom, hair in tangles, wearing the one rag somebody thought to toss in there.When she is sad; this feels right, like destiny.

erika, that's - yep.

One of my favourite novels was written in the thirties, called The Chinese Room. The title referred to that place in everyone's soul where, in the end, no one else ever gets to go, no matter how frantically we wave them in.

The ultimate cave.

Any librarians reading? Booklist review is out today, page 35.

Dang, and Greg's offsite somewhere. He can't get to it.

I just finished my rough draft.

It's a strange feeling, at once triumphant and bereft. And I feel like the real work is still to come--editing it until it's the best I can make it, querying agents and editors, in general doing all I can to find it a home.

But I did it. I've written two books. That's something, right?

Definitely something. Congrats, Susan!

Whohoo! Congratulations, Susan! Good work!