Sex

Just kidding on the title .... thought maybe I'd draw some readers that way.This isn't about sex; but it is about seduction.
This morning, for the first time, I picked up my last-century, pen-and-paper journal and thought to myself, "Maybe I'll check in on the blog instead.''
Ah, fickle, fickle Deborah. That siren 'net has ensnared me in its web ...
It's all about the blinking cursor, the nice, even type, no scratch-outs or torn sheets of paper. I've been keeping a journal since high school -- books and books and pages and pages of musings, left behind for future American literature students to peruse. (Sure, keep dreaming).
What will they do in the future? Find someone's old hard drive in the attic and go on a blog hunt? Somehow, it doesn't have the same romance as wiping off dust and tracing a finger across an ancient teardrop on the pages of someone's hand-written journal. (Of course if it's my journal, that spot could be fried chicken grease or a splotch of mayonnaise.)
On the other hand, I do have cool graphic dots and soothing earth tone colors on my blog ....
Quick update: found an agent I love (the waiting paid off). The contract from Midnight Ink will be signed soon (the indecision is over). "Mama and the Murderer'' will be out next year (starting a whole new crisis, when I realize I actually have to get out and MEET people to sell the book. Yikes!).
Is it too late to go back into newspapers?

Waiting

Is there anything more excruciating than waiting?
In twenty-five minutes, I expect a call from a literary agent who will tell me if she likes my book enough to take me on as a client. This is my first such call. Though I've gotten a few of those polite, impersonal letters:
"Dear Deborah, Unfortunately, I just didn't fall in love with this enough to feel I'd be the best agent for you in a very competitive fiction market.'' Or, the less polite ones: "Dear Author, Thank you for considering our agency. We regret to inform you that your work is unsuitable for representation.''
Oh, yeah? Well, regret THIS, jerkwad.
With a book contract sitting--unsigned--on my desk, some friends wonder why I'm even bothering with an agent. I contacted the publishing house; I got the deal, meager as it is. All an agent will do at this point is take 15 percent off the top.
But I want someone else to take care of the business end of things, even if it costs me 15 percent. If I were a skilled businesswoman, I wouldn't have gone into journalism in the first place, earning pennies for my years of hard labor.
So, tick-tock, tick-tock. Fifteen more minutes to wait.

Navel-gazing

I'm still getting the hang of this new-fangled blog deal. Tarnation, Sam! It's sure a fascinatin' world on this Worldwide Web!
I've been looking around at other blogs ... boy, are there are lot of boring people out there. Lots of clever ones, too. And those, of course, are the ones I compare myself unfavorably to (see? ended a sentence with a preposition). After all, I'm supposed to be a professional writer. The pressure, the pressure.
I had a horseback ride today, preparing myself and my 53-year-old knees for a week-long, cross-Florida trek called the Cracker Trail Ride.
Is it possible to overdose on Aleve?
Let's see ... arthritic knees; my non-tech tendencies ... too bad I don't have grandkids, too. Then this scintillating post would definitely land me on the blogs of note list.
Just wait: Next time I'll detail my favorite needlework techniques.

ohmigod! I'm an old person, and I'm blogging!

Mark this day in your calendars, friends and family ... Deb goes hi-tech. A decade after the ability to "blog'' became available, I'm finally surfing the WWW wave. Hang ten, baby!
Does this mean I'll discard my ballpoint pen and ruled-paper journal? Probably not.
But, hey ... I'm getting my feet wet here. Teeny, tiny, babysteps into the new millenium (that started, what? Seven years ago? What can I say? I always look--and look, and look, and look--before I leap.)
Now, if this entry doesn't disappear the moment I leave this page, the first "post'' from Mystery Gal is hereby recorded for posterity.
It's Mystery Gal, in case you're interested, because I've just been offered a contract on my first two mystery novels, after a long career as a journalist. Yay for me! First one's titled "Mama and the Murderer,'' second is "Mama Rides Shotgun.''
Watch this space (if I can ever find it again) for more details!