I started writing my book first, To Tempt a Viscount, a little over a year ago. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, or just how much work writing a novel was. When I reached 10,000 words, I contemplated giving up. Doubts ran through my mind that I would never get published. After all, how could I possibly write a novel that people might desire to read? I just knew I was wasting my time, but every time I thought of quitting, I couldn’t. I wanted to complete my story, no matter who read it, or rather, who did not read it.
So I continued to plug away at my little book. I did not strive to create some masterpiece. Instead, I simply wanted to write an enjoyable story that I might re-read years from now. When I finally finished writing my novel, I was so very proud. I had accomplished what I set out to do. Who knew that the initial first draft was only the beginning of actually writing a novel?
After months of rejection from all sorts of different publishers, I finally received a nibble. My wonderful editor instructed me to fix certain style errors I grievously had committed. I did as instructed, and she told me to fix more. After my second round of revisions, she offered me a contract. I couldn’t sign that thing fast enough.
Congratulatory flowers from my exceptionally supportive mother for signing my first book contract. The card included with the flowers delightfully referred to the blooms as ‘imagination blossoms.’