The day I went into labor with my older kid, I packed hard copy of my work in progress in my hospital bag. You’re thinking the cosmic joke on me is that I believed I would get any work done on it when I’d just delivered a newborn. But no, the cosmic joke is that I actually did work on than manuscript while I recovered from giving birth to Gareth, and it took me almost seven more years to get the damn thing finished.
Well, finished it is. I’m giving my beloved critique group one last crack at it, and then it’s off for a big press’s open reading period for novellas. I didn’t set out to become a novella specialist, but it seems to be working out for me. So far, I’ve sold every novella I’ve ever submitted, usually to the first market I subbed them to. Now that I’ve said so out loud, have I jinxed myself?