I entered a contest.

I just entered a contest, and I am so excited. I probably won't get picked. Mainly because I just have that kind of luck. No really, I could enter a contest with only 2 participants, and I would still lose. My husband says that I am the unluckiest, clumsiest person he knows. And sadly, he's right. I am. (I did, however, manage to snag him, so I haven't always been unlucky, eh?)

But, I digress....the contest I entered is for a workshop at the writers conference I am going to thisOctober. There are four professional authors who are going to critique four manuscripts for the group. Well, needless to say, I entered my manuscript to be critiqued. I really hope I get picked, but it is unlikely, as we were supposed to enter the first seven pages of your manuscript, and those certainly aren't the strongest in my book. However, maybe my lack of initial strength will encourage them to help me? Well, one can hope, right?

I am excited to get the professional feedback. I've gotten plenty of feedback before. This Ominous Secret: The Proposal has been read by several friends (my legion of 25 "fans"...shut up, how many fans do you have?) :) and they've all given me plenty of feedback, both good and bad. And I also had a writing partner who used to give me infinite amounts of feedback, both negative and positive. I am just looking forward to receiving feedback from someone who isn't still at my amateur level. Sometimes us unpublished authors can get snarky with each other, as we are all on equal playing field. I think receiving feedback from a panel of authors who critique professionally would be beyond priceless. Beyond priceless.

The closer I get to this conference, the more hysterical I seem to feel about it. I can't wait to meet other writers from my neck of the woods. I can't wait to pitch my book. I can't wait to be away from my family for 3 days (did I just type that out loud?) I just hope I gain as much knowledge as possible, and soak everything all up like a sponge. I hope I make new friends. I feel like the new kid in school. The one who doesn't know where the science lab is. Or the lunch room. (Well, truth be told, this fat girl always knew where the lunchroom was. Always.)

Brook Moss.