I want to be a writer.
Yeah, I sort of already knew that.
But I want to be more than a writer.
I have reached the moment where I want to be an author.
This means sacrifice.
Fewer social obligations. Fewer books read. Fewer hours watching TV shows that I don’t really care about. Fewer other projects.
Also, this means
In other words. I need to write, I need to finish, I need to get an agent.
Agents…. publishers… I need to connect. I need to hob nob. I need to network.
I need to go to conferences.
There is one in SF in February. I have been mulling it over for a while now.
It is expensive. Even though it is local, we are talking about $1000.
I think it would be worth it.
I would NEED to have something pretty concrete to market if I was there. No vague “I have an idea for a novel…” sort of thing but rather a “I am 75% done with my novel and it is about…” sort of thing.
I work well with deadlines. I always have. I like to plan, I like to make schedules. I like to have a looming Drop Dead Dates for completion.
I want to register for this conference.
I want to network, to meet agents, to shop my work.
I want to get a book deal.
I need to have a fundraiser.