Last week, I finished finishing my manuscript for Harlequin/Kimani, and FedExed it off to my new editor. I whipped that baby into shape and showed it who’s the boss. I got rid of most of the purple prose, most—well, some, anyway—of the adverbs, and most of the excess verbiage.
I tightened the manuscript and sharpened it. I made the hero and heroine edgier. I sliced, diced, rearranged, and prayed. I spell-checked and crosschecked. I worked hard and sweated bullets.
Then I cut the apron strings and sent my little baby out into the world.
The moment of truth is almost here. The question is: will my new editor like my book?
Did I do enough?
How many typos did I miss? Three? Twenty? Are the characters funny enough? Sympathetic enough? Sexy enough?
I loved them.
But will SHE?
I’ll know soon enough. Maybe too soon.
In the meantime … I’m going to find some chocolate.