Maybe it’s because I went to the gym and pushed myself on the weights. Maybe it’s because I stayed up too late last night working out plot ideas for the WIP. Maybe it’s because DH is out of town, hence I’m “on” 24/7. Maybe it’s because Gremlin #2 was up crying several times last night. For whatever reason, I’m tired today and I have a bunch of stuff to do (which is why I’m blogging and avoiding it all).
So this is me. Standing in the kitchen, making lunch for Gremlin #2. And I need coffee. It’s only 12:35 and I need coffee to keep me going (hush, Piper). So I pop a cup in the microwave and as I’m waiting for it to heat, start thinking about MMB. Yes, the one I’ve already finished. You see, I spent a good chunk of time printing queries and a couple requested partials last night, making labels, getting things ready to be sent out the door. And something’s been bothering me. One of the contest entries I got back said the first two chapters were both really good, but so dramatically different it threw the judge off. Now, this was her personal opinion, and the only person who’s read it who’s said anything like that, but it made me stop and think. The first two chapters ARE dramatically different. It’s got an Indiana Jones-ish quality to the first chapter, but I’ve never considered the hook at the end of the first chapter to be super super strong. Good, but not uber-strong, you know?
So I’m standing there in the kitchen thinking about chapter one as I’m making macaroni and cheese for Gremlin #2, and it hits me. BAM! A simple solution. One paragraph at the end of chapter one that ties the two chapters together. Easy. Why didn’t I think of it before? Of course, now I have query-remorse, worrying that those agents who already have it will think the first two chapters are too different. Stupid, I know, but if I don’t have something to worry about, I’m just not me. In this day and age where you only have a few pages to hook an agent’s attention, something as silly as one missing paragraph can make all the difference
The microwave beeps, and all this is running through my mind as I pull my mug out. I’m thinking about sitting in the office making a couple minor changes, reprinting the last page of the chapter, tearing open the envelopes I got all ready to go last night, knowing I need to print more labels. And then I look down and realize I have just added 1/2 stick of butter to my coffee because I’m too tired and too distracted to stay focused on any one thing for any length of time.
It’s now 12:57.
And I’m tired. And I have a butt-load of stuff to do.