It's time

As I sit back at my desk in London, after spending far too long reading about writers that have made it I am hit with the realisation that it's time.

Naomi has read and proofed my book. She has made suggestions and aired her thoughts. She has encouraged and constructively criticised me.

My husband, Kendall, has spent hours reading over the manuscript, finding willing 11 year-old guinea pigs, stood for ages in Staples, hole-punching and collating the pages to send to Naomi.

Everyone has done their bit. And now it stops with me. I keep thinking of other things to add, to change. I keep thinking I'm not ready yet to submit it-just a little while longer. But then I wonder if it isn't anything but fear keeping me from sending out my first three chapters as you're supposed to and allowing the agents to decide to see the balance of it.

I'm afraid after all this time of crafting it, it still won't be regarded as good enough. I'm afraid of the hole that rejections leave you in.

Yet, perhaps these fears are irrational now. I've been offered and signed a real contract to write a non-fiction book for a publisher in the U.S. (no small feat). Publishers don't invest time and money where they don't think they'll get returns.

And so this week I have to do it. Send out the first three chapters and let God deal with the rest.

This week I have to let my writing speak for itself and remember this isn't the end yet.