Susan, I think you've set Lucy up as a character who does wonder about this sort of stuff. Also, she's a) in a new set of circumstances, and b) likely to be slightly overwhelmed. I think the loop is plausible.

Cool. I confess to borrowing certain aspects of my own personality for her, among them a tendency to overthink and overanalyze everything, but I didn't know if what seemed a logical motivation to me would make sense to readers in general.

Thanks everyone for the advice. I think I will just write the one article I have left and then bow out gracefully.. I'm quite sure an honours English courseload combined with german, french and creative writing will be adequate ammunition for a convincing refusal of future assignments.

On a side note... I'm still pretty proud of that haiku experiment.. Anyone know any small poetry reviews that I might submit to?

Brynn, you ought to be proud of it. They were excellent haikus.

Eek!

I just registered for my first writers' conference, hosted by the Greater Seattle Romance Writers of America the first weekend of October. With, like, real authors, editors, and agents! I spent pretty much all my spare cash for September on the registration fee, which means I have to take this seriously and be all professional and shit. And I don't know what I'm doing! And I'm already stressing about what I'll do if I get stuck with my last choice of editor for the one-on-ones--my first choice was from Harper, my second from Pocket, and third and last from Harlequin--because I hate Harlequin's MO and I don't want my booook, my precioussssss, to go to them unless I've exhausted every other legit publisher in the business, including the tiny little lines who mostly only sell to libraries.

t runs around in imitation of chicken with head chopped off

Susan, calm down, honey. What in the world do you mean, you don't know what you're doing? Of course you do; you already know which editor you'd prefer to deal with.

Seriously, it will be fine. (I just checked Jenn's schedule to see if she was doing that, but she's not - she did RWA in NY last month.) You'll bring along samples and a good synopsis - have you got a one-page synopsis? If not, ping me, because I give very, very good synopses, overall - and you'll charm the socks off everyone and they will want to rep you and all will be good.

And suppose you do meet with the agent you don't like? No rule says you have to do anything in the way of business with his/her line.

Susan, calm down, honey. What in the world do you mean, you don't know what you're doing? Of course you do; you already know which editor you'd prefer to deal with.

Well, yeah, but that's because I spent five minutes on each line's website figuring out whose was closest to what I write.

No synopsis yet--I'm trying to finish my first draft first. Before I got all pregnant and exhausted, I was shooting for 8/31, but now I think 9/15 is more realistic. I don't want to turn down an opportunity like this right here in my own city, but I'm really cutting it close on having anything presentable on time.

The agents who'll be there are Natasha Kern from, er, Natasha Kern Literary Agency, and Susannah Taylor from the Richard Henshaw Group. I listed Taylor as my first choice because she said she likes the Regency, authors with unique voices, intelligent heroines, and heroes with a sense of humor, while a quick skim of Kern's website showed a lot of Western romances and Christian historicals, but nothing much in the pretty English comedy of manners department.

How do people dress at these things?

How do people dress? OK, breathe deep. You dress the way you would always dress, just assuming that you don't usually wear a dead chicken on your head and thong undies and mismatched shoes. That's only ok if you're Edward Gorey. Seriously, it's a working conference; wear what's comfortable. Hell, in your case you don't have to even consider it. You're pregnant. Last conference I went to was World Fantasy in Minneapolis last Halloween and I wore black leather pants, flat boots, a long sleeved microfibre shirt - it was 15 degrees outside and I guessed what the temperatures indoors might be. That was my only consideration: comfort. I wear leather a lot and it worked for the environs and the weather.

As for having anything presentable, you don't need a fully finished first draft, do you? Two-thirds done, synopsis in hand (that's your one-page cheat sheet and it's a hell of a lot easier to carry around than a novel, and times that by a zillion if you're an agent or editor), and bob's your uncle. Recommendation: have some business cards with you.

What else?

How do people dress? OK, breathe deep. You dress the way you would always dress, just assuming that you don't usually wear a dead chicken on your head and thong undies and mismatched shoes.

Comfortable for me is jeans and a t-shirt. I'm assuming that's entirely too casual for something like this. And, I doubt I'll look pregnant yet, since I'll barely be into my second trimester, nor need to wear maternity clothes.

I know I'm freaking out over this, but it's the first thing of its kind I've ever attempted, and I don't want to blow it.

I'll probably be firing a draft synopsis in your direction sometime between now and then. But meanwhile, it's midnight and I have to work (ugh) tomorrow.

Weren't you going to wear a nice sort of Indiany skirt at the F2F? Pair it up with whatever you were going to wear it with, and you'll be fine.

Go get some sleep. I'm going to do the same when Nic gets home.

I think I'm done with this story. I could keep poking at it, but three rounds of beta are enough for me.

Now I haven't a clue where to send it. It's too newbie for an outdoors-oriented magazine like Outside or Climbing. It's not really a travel story, and since it's fiction it doesn't feel appropriate for a travel magazine. It's not really "literary" enough for one of the regional literary magazines. And it's second person present tense.

What the hell do I do with this?

A sample, if you will:

This part of the pitch is straightforward. Big ledges, lots of holds: it's like climbing a ladder. You're not bored, though; you're over 100 feet from the ground. You keep moving, and the concentration pushes the fear, the exposure, to the back of your mind. If you fall now, your partner will catch you. You trust the rope, your harness, your hands, your partner. When you look straight down, you see only rock and treetops, and the spare rope dangling behind you. You don't look down for long and instead keep climbing.

Your partner is reliable: there is no slack in the rope, the protection is placed in locations that are easy to manage, and suddenly you're there. "Hey," he says as you come over the ledge to find yourself at the belay station at the top of the pitch. It's a big ledge, at least 30 inches deep, and about twelve feet long. Your partner is seated comfortably on his jacket, and the excess rope dips below the ledge in lazy loops. You're sweating, and before you even sit down you pull out a water bottle and drink heavily. The wind cools the sweat on your face.

"Nice lead," you say, and he smiles behind his sunglasses.

You look up the wall as your partner clips you into the anchor. The grey/green/brown face soars above you. Below you the multi-colored treetops sway gently, and above you two turkey vultures make lazy circles in the sunlight. Your partner cracks an old joke about how the vultures are waiting for climbers to fall. A pair of climbers a few routes over exchange belay commands. Past them a pair of ropes hang free on the wall, and a woman in a green jacket descends swiftly, rappelling down the face it took her so long to ascend.

The Fig Newtons taste fabulous, if a little chalky, and there are two pitches to go. You can't wait.

Help?