I have an intense week ahead. I will be going to New York City to pitch my book and magazine ideas to editors and agents at lots and lots of publications and publishing houses. Big ones. Meetings that make me want to implode with anticipation. I have eight magazine ideas and one book idea ready to go. My goals for the trip are to come home with one assignment for a story and one interested editor who wants me to keep in touch. A big dream would be to sell my rugby book. That would be nice. But it is not a goal. As my college rugby coach taught me, you can only prepare for things within your control.
I cannot control what editors think would be good ideas. I can only control how well I prepare my ideas. Consider me prepared. After three years of graduate research and writing, I could market rugby to a Russian ballerina. I just need to find the right ballerina.
In additional preparation for this journey, I have purchased three pairs of trousers in the petites department, so the pants don't drag on the ground from my stubby legs. I bought red shoes, because Patsy convinced me they were necessary. I got my face waxed and I got a hip haircut that says, "This woman can write AND carry face framing layers."
I have an umbrella that doubles as a flash light, copies of every magazine I am visiting, and a bag full of clips of my published work. I feel ready.
On top of these preparations, I have been cleaning my brains out because Corey's parents are coming to visit this weekend. We have some pretty sweet activities on deck, but the excitement and joy of those are slightly dulled by this professional opportunity. I will return to the internet at a different stage in my writing career. Huge, right?