I tried to start a query letter in my little yellow notepad last night after Bible study. It was awful. I mean, really, how hard should a little two-or-three-paragraph description of your book be? Not hard. Not hard at all.

Right? Right?! Well, it just goes to show you that writing is harder than it looks. You can read something and see how good it is and pick it apart, and say “I can do that, easy” but the truth is . . . no. No, it’s not easy. And no, you can’t do that any easier than anyone else. Even experienced writers still have to edit and struggle. I think experienced writers, by definition, aren’t the ones who can write the easiest as much as the ones who understand how difficult writing can be, and who plod along anyway.

I’ve read that the more effortless a book looks, the more someone slaved to make it look that way. Same for query letters, I guess.

So I’m going to go slave over my finished rough draft. I marked it up and generally know what I need to do — I just don’t want to do it. I’ve been reading Meg Cabot’s online diary instead. She’s cool. Did you know that her cat broke her laptop, like Tiger broke mine? Her cat, Henrietta, knocked it off the bed. Tiger just tripped on the cord and yanked it off the couch. This should be a very valuable lesson in “Not Letting Cats Near Laptops.” Alex might argue that I shouldn’t have left it in such a precarious position, but since it was a cat that broke Meg Cabot’s, I figure it’s a kitty conspiracy. They just don’t want us to write.

I finished the lengthiest part of writing — the writing. Now all I have to do is edit, write a query, send out queries, get rejected, send out more queries, get rejected, get rejected, get rejected, get accepted, hassle over a contract, advertise my book with friends, family, and cheap online methods, then beg local bookstores to carry it and maybe even bring me in for a book signing, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble and even though I dread meeting strangers.

Yeah. Done my cute, neurotic rear.

I would rather be a failure than a coward. You only fail if you try . . . and I refuse to be afraid to try. To be honest, though, I’m a little afraid of success. Because things would change.

Is that odd?

In story-related news, I finished a scene on the Isabelle story that was bothering me over Christmas, and I added a little more to it today.

The big news is: I just have to write the climax and resolution, and then I can ask people to help me edit. Because the first draft will be done. And it’s a mighty decent draft, because Alex has been reading as I write and pointing out little things that I need to fix.

Isn’t it exciting?