I'm Back and I Posted A Video!

Sorry I haven't been blogging for the last week or so, I was bogged down with some other projects and such, but I'm BACK and I posted a proof of life video :)

Cliches and Holidays

I'm not going to go too far into Thanksgiving because I am trying to keep this blog about writing and not about my day-to-day personal stuff, but I am still so excited about what a wonderful Thanksgiving I had, I just wanted to say that I hope you all had a day that was equally as beautiful, if not more.

It's funny because it's always easy to use holidays as milestones in our lives to think about where we were or what we were doing at that exact time the year prior or many years ago. At Thanksgiving last year, I remember telling everyone that I was almost finished writing a book. The funny thing is that as I was talking about it, I doubted in my own head whether I would ever actually finish writing it. In fact, I doubted my ability to write a novel all the way until I had finished my THIRD edit. It took that long for it to actually sink in that I had really done it. I kept thinking that after I turned each page, the rest of the pages would either be blank or not make sense or that something would be terribly wrong and that the book wouldn't actually be finished. 

Finally, after reading it three times and frankly, getting kind of sick of it, I finally accepted that I had written my first book :)

Anyway, so using last year as my gauge...to go from wondering whether or not I would ever even finish it and not knowing what I would do after that to where I am now is nothing short of a miracle for me. I've completed it, polished it and most importantly, I believe in it. I'm proud to send it to agents and publishers. I'm thrilled to tell people about it.  In fact, once you get me talking about it, it's hard for me to shut up about it (hard to believe from someone who was nicknamed "motormouth" that I would talk a lot about anything, I know). Last year, at Thanksgiving, I remember telling someone that my book was "nothing special" and that it was just "a regular fiction book that is ...I don't know...nothing really exciting...." In all fairness, that was before I wrote the awesome ending :) but it's just the fact that I wasn't willing to call myself a writer until now....which is a huge transformation (that will be part of my next book, or at least my memoir) and all of that is really exciting for me. 

When it comes down to it, the saying "what a difference a day makes" is certainly true...but the difference that three hundred and sixty five of them can make is pretty astounding!

Heard From The Agent...

Ok, so I promised I would update as soon as I got news on the exclusive I had with that agent....and I finally heard back today.

As of today, my status is....drum roll please....back on the market!

I guess if this were Facebook, I would have just gone from "It's complicated" to "single." :)

Am I mad? Not at all. Disappointed? Of course, I'm human.

What I am happy about, though is that someone took the time to read my work. Even more importantly, I know it actually was considered by an agent that I really like and respect, which in itself is an accomplishment. Plus, I trust and value her opinion, so it is not just "another rejection," it is something I take to heart and am really looking at what might need to be tweaked. I am honestly grateful for that opportunity and now I feel like I can't say that my book wasn't given fair consideration, because this agent did give it the attention that I was hoping someone would give it.

I really wish she would have liked it, but that is a matter of personal preference. As I discussed in my post "From the Agents' Point of View," we all pick up books we don't like...and then we put them back down. That's the beauty of having such a wide selection of books to choose from. Plus, most of us aren't trained to read books with the keen eye that agents are. To be honest, I would hate to have their jobs--I know that as I hone my craft, I will look back on probably my first and second novels and see how much I needed to improve...and they have to read that stuff all day long, and then try to sell it.

I guess the fact that this particular agent didn't stay up all night turning the pages of my book could mean a number of things...but it might mean something so simple as her preferring not to read the style that I write in. After all, I will be the first to tell you, I am no Pat Conroy. I would actually say my writing style is more aligned with Sophie Kinsella's (Madeleine Wickham). While my topics go a lot deeper than hers do (no disrespect, she is one of my favorite authors), we have a similar voice--admittedly she is the Celine Dion and I am the American Idol contestant singing a Celine Dion song...but nevertheless. Not everyone can get into that. It's a little hyper-cerebral, but in a scatter-brained sort of way and has a lot of inner dialogue going on.

Wow...after reading that last paragraph back to myself, I guess my blogging style isn't much different than my novel-writing style, is it? :) Our writing doesn't stray much from our true selves, apparently, even if we do call it "fiction"....

Anyway, so those are the results, as promised. I am sorry that I am not posting with better news, but one of these days I will have good news and we will celebrate that together :) For now, I will keep moving forward...now that I am free to send to agents again, I have two or three that I am considering sending to...otherwise, it's off to the writer's conference and then if all else fails, the book will be on Kindle soon enough!

Weeding Out

When I first started this blog, I promised myself that I would be 100% honest with everything that I put up here. That is why I have posted my rejection letters, that is why I have vented my frustrations or shared on the days that I am feeling more optimistic...and I will continue to do that.

So, in the spirit of honesty, I haven't written anything in almost two days. That goes for this blog, which I'm sure many of you have noticed, as well as my writing outside of the blog (my novels, poetry, memoir, etc.). I had a lot of thoughts swirling inside of my head with things I wanted to write, but I just didn't feel like writing, which is extremely unusual for me.

It's not that I don't know why, either.

Writing is a tough gig. I'm going to be honest about that, too. Sure there are some people who know the right people or who possibly get lucky...not that they're not good writers, but in this business, it seems that getting your stuff in front of the right people is 90% of the battle and writing is only the other 10%. For the rest of us, though, we have to keep writing new stuff and keep whoring ourselves out to any media outlet or literary connection we can find with the hope that the right pair of eyes will see it and like it. It isn't always fun...in fact, it never really is. The only fun part is the writing...the 10%...so in all truthfulness, 90% of being a writer really isn't very fun at all.

I suppose it's just about loving the other 10% THAT much where you are fulfilled enough by it to push through the rest-- the part that is the demeaning, ego-destroying, hope and dream-crushing process that is trying to get your writing recognized. In the end, I've realized that the ones who endure are those who are writing for the love of writing...and that like most other things, this might all just be a weeding out process.

That being the case, I'm in it for the long-haul...I write because I love to write...even if I have to do something on the side...even if it's another ten years before I get published or if my writing never gets recognized, I'm never going to stop writing because that will mean I've clamped the valve that flows from my soul.

What is the take-away from this blog? I'm not sure if I was convincing myself that it is ok to keep pushing through for what you love when the going gets tough or if I was writing it for someone else out there who might be in the same position and feeling the same way...or perhaps both.

So, to that person...if you're out there...Let's make a deal...Do what you love, and so will I :)

No News Is...Just No News!

So, I've been keeping myself pretty busy lately, but every once in awhile, someone will ask me if I've heard back from the agent who has an exclusive on my book yet.

Of course, I will update right away when I do hear something. That being the case, the fact that I haven't posted anything about it is neither good nor bad, it simply just is :)

When I sent out my first round of queries awhile back, I waited on pins and needles after someone requested material. I was literally nauseous every time I saw an email from an agent because I was so worried about what they were going to say.

I can't say I don't know what has happened between then and now, because I do, but this time around is a completely different experience. I want it just as badly...if not more, but that desire is manifesting itself differently in terms of the energy.  The only way to really articulate it is to say that where before I had the nausea and anxiety, which were negative energy, now I am just excited and somehow strangely calm about all of it, which is a much more positive energy.

I believe that my book is going to land in the right hands and if this agent is reading it and liking it, that is wonderful!  If, on the other hand, she is reading it and not enjoying it, I doubt she'd be very excited about pitching it to publishers, first of all, and second of all, me getting nauseous about it isn't going to make her change her mind.

...and that is sort of where I'm at.  So...for those of you who had been asking if I'd heard back yet, there is your (long-winded) answer... BUT I promise you that I will post news as soon as I have any! :)

New YouTube Video :)

Special Surprise...Preview of a New Book

So, I've been working on another book and I thought I'd share part of it on here. I'm really excited about it and the plot has some very exciting twists and turns. I haven't done any editing yet, so bear with me :) But here is a sneak peak...

                As the final preparations were being made, the executioner became increasingly nervous.  He felt as if he were the one awaiting his own death rather than that of Prisoner #6602.  Although hidden behind a black cloak, he felt naked in front of the crowd of witnesses.  The cloak was something they always wore so that neither the chosen witnesses, the prisoner, nor any media reporters could identify the executioner.  Only he, the warden and his accomplices knew his identity. 

None of the others had the luxury of anonymity.  A four by eight foot window framed their faces and entire bodies for the viewing crowd.  In addition, their credentials were worn in a plastic pouch on their sleeves and their full names were embroidered above their breast pocket.  It didn’t matter, though.  They had nothing to hide.  Nobody cared who buckled the final straps or who checked the pulse, or lack thereof, after the fact.  It was the one who pushed the button who needed to be concealed.  Hence, the executioner’s cloak.

 They were accompanied by other prison officials who were not part of the plan, which was going to make things much more difficult, but not impossible.  The first time they had tried this, it failed.  There were too many variables and they hadn’t planned carefully enough.  Fortunately, only they knew that they had failed.  To everyone else, including the warden and viewing group, everything went according to plan.  This time, though, they were ready.

                Only the executioner and his accomplices were aware of the plan. They were paid off well enough so the executioner knew they would all keep their mouths shut.  Prisoner #6602 himself didn’t even know about the plan, and they wanted it that way.  While it might seem safe to confide in an inmate on death row who is mere minutes away from being executed, the executioner and his accomplices knew otherwise.  They couldn’t take a chance of having this plot be exposed.  They had worked too hard, for too long, on perfecting the procedure and the plan.  They simply couldn’t risk it.  Not even for the person they were risking it all because of.

                The clock was ticking loudly, painfully loud, as it drew closer to midnight.  They always carried out the sentences at midnight.  The executioner knew he couldn’t linger in the chamber.  He did one last quick check to make sure his accomplices had done as they were supposed to do.  He looked over at the EKG machine.  He discreetly checked for the white dot on the back to ensure it was the right machine. 

                It was.   

He made his way to the anteroom, the room behind the chamber where the lethal cocktails were stored and administered from.  He checked for the white dot on the bottom of the IV solutions.  He pretended to merely be examining each bag for holes or other impurities so those around him wouldn’t know what he was doing.  They seemed to be oblivious to his actions anyway. 

                During executions, everyone was always in sort of a zombie-like state.  The prison staff, the witnesses, the execution team, even the condemned was generally quiet and reflective during the preparations.  Nobody was particularly thrilled about the fact that a life was about to be ended or that they were about to participate in a murder of sorts.  After all, the death certificate did state murder as the cause of death. 

Some members of the team had religious or moral objections to the procedure, yet they carried them out as mandated in the capacity of their job function.  They presumably made peace with it privately.  The handful of those who were happy to be carrying out the execution didn’t show it.  They couldn’t.  The mood in the room was solemn, the witnesses were silent by order and the air was made thick by the impending death.  Showing exuberance during a time like that would have likely resulted in some sort of repercussions either by the other witnesses or prison officials. 

Surprisingly, even the family members of the victims were almost always quiet and buttoned up during the procedure.  The executioner presumed this was more because of the reason they were there than the fact that they were actually mournful over the death of the convicted.  After all, this whole event was taking place because they themselves had lost someone they loved.  They had been profoundly hurt in a life-altering way by the events leading up to this.  There was certainly no joy in that.         Closure, perhaps, but joy? Doubtful.

The time was drawing closer.  The warden assembled the team and quickly briefed them.

“Gentlemen,” he said.  “I presume all final preparations have commenced.”

He looked to the prison officials responsible for handling those tasks, the executioner’s accomplices, and they nodded.  The executioner worried that they nodded a little too emphatically, which worried him.  Fortunately, the warden didn’t take notice of it.  He wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him.  He was all too aware of the phenomenon that occurred when someone was doing something wrong, and that feeling they got where it seemed as if their every movement was being displayed on a giant theater screen with their secrets in big red letters on a marquee below for all to see.  He had to trust that nobody who wasn’t supposed to be was privy to his plan.  He had to maintain the calm, collected façade that he was crumbling to pieces behind.

“The condemned refused his last meal and is being escorted to us as we speak,” the warden continued, completely devoid of emotion. 

The executioner presumed that the warden was one of those who enjoyed putting prisoners to death, yet tried to hide this fact from the rest of the staff.  He envisioned him toasting every execution with a flute of champagne when he was in the privacy of his own home.  Tonight, he would likely do the same.

“Wilson, will you please make the final call to ensure that a stay has not been granted?” the warden demanded.

“Yes, sir,” Officer Wilson responded as he picked up the phone.

He spoke quietly into the receiver, reading the prisoner’s information from an index card that he held in his hand.  He hung up the phone seconds later.

“No stay, sir,” he said to the warden.

“Very well then, does anybody have any questions before we proceed?” the warden asked.

It was a rhetorical question.  They had all done this many times, it was just standard procedure to ask if anybody had questions.  Not once in the executioner’s career had he ever seen any of the prison officials ask anything during that time.

“All right, then, let’s move. We’ve got a job to do.” The warden said.

Everyone scrambled to their respective positions as he gave the last order.  The executioner had his eye on the staff members who went out the side door to meet the escorts and strap Prisoner #6602 to the gurney. 

They were not in on the plan.  They didn’t need to be. 

Before he took his place in the anteroom, the executioner purposely brushed shoulders with one of his accomplices.
                “Everything’s set, right?” the executioner asked.

“I think so,” the accomplice replied.

“You think?” the executioner whispered from under the cloak.

“As much as it can be, we didn’t have much time and there were eyes all over us,” the accomplice responded.

“What about the coroner, and the morgue?” the executioner asked.

“All set,” the accomplice replied.

“If he dies, you die, got it?” the executioner demanded.

“Got it,” the accomplice gulped as he forced the words out of a tightening throat.

The executioner took his place in the anteroom and waited for the condemned to be brought in.  A few seconds later, the gurney was wheeled in.  The wheels squealed loudly and the executioner damned the sound.  If they were wheeling someone to their death, couldn’t they at least do so on a gurney that didn’t scream across every single inch of the floor as it crossed? 

The executioner could not see Prisoner #6602’s face.  He had seen it many times before, though.  Without seeing him today, the executioner could sense his fear.  That was good, he had not been tipped off about the plan. 

When the gurney squealed into its place in the center of the room, IVs were inserted into the man’s arm, one into each.  After they were securely fastened in place, the viewing curtains which had been closed while he was wheeled in were now re-opened.

“Any last words, statements, or testimony?” the warden asked the prisoner.

They didn’t waste any time.  Once the gurney was brought in, the process was started immediately.  In fact, the IV lines were already flowing with saline when the question was asked.  Prisoner #6602 likely didn’t even know how much time he had to spit out his last words. 

“Radcliffe. Darren Radcliffe,” the prisoner simply said.

That was not Prisoner #6602’s name.  Nobody knew who ‘Darren Radcliffe’ was or what the he meant when he muttered the name. 

“Darren Radcliffe?” the warden asked.

“Yes,” the prisoner muttered.

“Care to elaborate?” the warden asked coldly.

“No, sir,” Prisoner #6602 said confidently.

“All right, then.  If you have no further words, the intercom to the viewing audience will be disabled and the process will begin.”

The prisoner acknowledged with a slight head nod.  He seemed to be at peace with what was about to take place. 

The warden exited the chamber and appeared in the anteroom.  He tapped the executioner on the shoulder and said, “It’s time, start the sequence.” 

He was referring to the sequence of IVs that would deliver the ‘lethal’ part of the lethal injection.  The executioner pushed the buttons that corresponded to each of the IV solutions.  One by one, he pressed a stiff, shaking finger down on the buttons, praying that the plan would work.

The process was relatively uneventful.  Prisoner #6602 kept his eyes closed the whole time and there wasn’t any spectacle of sorts to be seen.  After about fifteen minutes, the accomplice went over to the heart rate monitor and checked it.  He gestured for the physician to come over and declare a time of death.  The physician nodded at the other accomplice as he did this.  He put his hand on the wrist of Prisoner #6602 and gestured for the intercom to be turned back on.

“Time of death, 12:17 a.m.,” he said with his hand still on the wrist of the condemned.

The executioner put his hand to his own pocket.  His fingers cupped the small device and wanted desperately to pull it out and look at it.  When he was sure he wasn’t being watched, he removed it from his pocket and kept it tucked in the palm of his hand as he glanced at it.  His stomach almost leapt through his throat as he read the tiny display.

Heart rate, sixty-two beats per minute. 

The plan had worked.

Good News!

Well, I guess this is why you select the agents you're going to query very carefully!

As I mentioned, I was extremely picky about who I queried this time. My "more is better" approach that I took when I queried in the past just led to more rejection letters from agents who didn't handle the type of book I wrote, which just wasted my time and theirs. So this time around, I really devoted a LOT of time to playing cupid with my book. I did exhaustive research on agents, I made a preliminary list of those that MIGHT be a good fit, which was about 50 agents and then I did more research still on those 50 agents and ended up cutting that number in half. This was a significant departure from the over 200 I sent out last time, but from a tactical standpoint, I think it was more effective.

How do I know? Because one of the agents that I REALLY had my hopes set on just got back to me. When I say I was eyeing this agent, I mean, I got butterflies when I saw her reply in my inbox. When I talked in an earlier blog about their being a "perfect fit" in terms of an agent for my manuscript, this is what I meant. Anyway, I'll cut to the chase...she expressed an interest and wanted to see more. She also requested an exclusive, which means that now any agents that come back to me and ask me for sample chapters, etc. I will have to be the one saying no to them because my manuscript is in exactly the hands I want it to be in right now :)

Strange, yet amazing turn of events! I will keep you posted!

Happy Friday!!!

New Perspective...The Agent's Point of View

I'll admit it, I've been kind of bummed these past few days because I've been working so hard sending out queries and so far, I've only received rejection letters. So, I was complaining a little bit (ok, a lot) yesterday. It's really incredible, though, how when your mind is open to it, something someone says can take everything you're thinking and turn it on its head.

I was saying how frustrating it is when these agents read my query letter or even my sample chapters and write back with a rejection letter basically telling me my work is not good enough because I feel like they're not giving me a fair chance. I've even blogged about this same concept. Maybe that is what they're saying...but guess what, not a SINGLE rejection letter has said that--not in so many words, not in so few words, not in any kind of cryptic innuendo... nothing of the sort. It was a conclusion I jumped to in this "me vs. them" mindset I was in.

In fact, they might think my work is really great...they might have just been rushing out of the office...they might just be only looking for "Twilight-like" books right now, they might have an assistant reading their stuff and have told them to ONLY bring them stuff that is vampire-esque, which my book is not. Looking at it from that perspective, a rejection letter does not say anything about the quality of my writing. Timing= yes; subject matter= perhaps; market= possibly; quality= no!

It might not even be any of those things. They might just not feel like it's THE BOOK for them and this point in their lives (the subject matter is a bit heavy and controversial)...and that's ok, too. In fact, my favorite author is Sophie Kinsella. I have read every single one of her books, except for one. I don't know why, but the one book of hers, I have picked up and tried to read three times and I am just not identifying with it. Is she a bad writer? Far from it. Do I love her work? Already said I do. But if I was an agent and had received a query letter or sample chapters from that particular book, I might have passed as well...and I might have missed out on something amazing.

The fact of the matter, though, is that a lot of people probably did pass on Sophie Kinsella (Madeleine Wickham as people know her in England), but someone didn't and now hundreds of thousands of people get to read her work. So, I'm hoping that my work will resonate with that one special agent at the right time and my stuff, too, will get out there when it is meant to.

It's That Time Again...

With new query letters, of course, come new rejection letters.

Now, in all fairness, most agents have a pretty decent form letter (see my previous blog about those if you're wondering what they are). There are also the select few agents (or their assistants) who actually take the time to write nice, personalized letters and believe it or not, there is something gratifying about receiving those letters. I got two today...and yes, I know...they are still rejections, but at least I know the agent actually took the time to read my letter and really felt my book wasn't a fit for them instead of...well, the one I'm posting today.

First of all, some of these (fiction-so we're talking finished novels here) agents write back and say they receive hundreds of query letters a day. The irony of the one I posted below is that this particular agent wrote back in thirteen minutes and said the very same thing--so maybe she didn't get quite so many on that day :) Really, though? I mean, how many people have written complete novels and are querying these agents? Sometimes in the same letter, they will say that the industry is in the worst state its ever been (great thing to tell an aspiring author) and things are extremely slow, yet they're absolutely incapacitated because of the amount of query letters they are receiving. Which is it? Are you riding the 2005/2006 housing bubble where everyone wants a piece of the action or did it already burst and you can't give away your foreclosure? It can't be both ways...

The other thing is that aside from the people who I've been introduced to BECAUSE I'm a writer, I've only organically met one other writer (who happens to be my friend's son and I hope the agents pay attention when they get his letter because his book is the needle in their supposed haystack). So if all of these hundreds of thousands of writers with finished novels are out there and they're writing query letters and bombarding the agents with them every day, who are these people and more importantly, where are they? I want to meet them.

In fact, I might have just single-handedly solved this whole debacle! The finished books are out there, the agents are just so overwhelmed by query letters, they don't have time to actually read any of them--ergo everyone gets a form rejection and the publishing industry is tanking. Hmm...maybe I should be a literary agent instead...just kidding!

Anyway, that basically covers the form rejection letters, but this one is a special "gem" and I felt the need to share it. It is probably the best I've received so far.

So, without further adieu, here it is...My comments are in red. Enjoy!

Note: While I do have a sense of humor, I'm not a mean person, so I did block out their name and email address (and mine, too, while I was at it) for the sake of privacy. I apologize for the small writing, that was as big as I could make it since I just did a screenshot with my comments on it.

Writing Conference

Since I'm literally trying everything this time around, I signed up for a writer's conference. I'm not sure what to think of it being as I've never been to one, but I've heard good things...especially about this particular conference.

I'm going to go all out at this thing. I'm buying all of the extra one-on-one time with the agents that I can get my hands on, I'm going to network like crazy and I'm going to tell anyone who will listen about my blog and more importantly, my book.

As the conference gets closer, I will post more about it and I will definitely post during and after it, but as of right now, I just signed up and I'm still not sure whether I made a wise investment or not (because it was definitely an investment--those things aren't cheap!)

I was going to go to one last year and that is actually one of the main reasons that I didn't...I didn't see the need to spend the money, so maybe I was a penny wise and a pound foolish, who knows? Maybe I would have been a famous author by now if I would have just spent the money at this time last year. Just kidding :)

But NOT going certainly didn't do anything to launch my writing career into the stratosphere, so this year is a new opportunity.

I'm actually glad that I didn't go last year, though (closet optimist strikes again). I am much more confident this year. A lot has happened between then and now. First things first, I edited the HELL out of my book. Five major edits/rewrites that included over 15,000 changes (I didn't count, but Microsoft word kept track and since I'm a computer nerd, I thought it was fun to constantly compare the documents), I added chapters, I took chapters out, I even changed the title. So at this point, I am very comfortable handing it to an agent, editor, publisher, whoever and walking away knowing I gave them my absolute best work. I have also grown a lot as an individual and as a writer and I actually feel READY for this one. So...whatever... I'm going and hopefully I'll get something out of it.

Ironically, one writer I talked to landed his agent in the airport shuttle on the way home from his conference--and he's doing very well now...so that still counts as a conference success story....kind of :)

If nothing else, I just bought the most expensive "Hi! My name is..." badge that I'll ever purchase...

Busy Sending Queries

So...the last few days have been filled with sending out query letters (which, as I've mentioned, I absolutely LOVE...or....not so much). 

I definitely realized that sending out a blast to every agent I could find the first time around was probably a mistake. This time, I'm really researching the agents I want to send to and making sure they seem like a good fit for my book. Whether they agree or not is a different story, but at least I know I'm targeting a more specific audience this time around. I think the first time, I just thought the more people who see it, the better chances I have...and what I realized is that this isn't American Idol where someone is just going to fall in love with what you're doing and say that you're not exactly what they're looking for, but they'll give you a chance anyway because they like you. If they say they're looking for young adult fiction and you send them commercial fiction, you can pretty much expect the Simon Cowell response.

Oh well, I tried. You live and you learn.

So, this time, if I get any Simon Cowells, maybe they're just having a bad day because I sent them what they said they were looking for :)

The Love/Hate Relationship

I absolutely love writing...and I absolutely HATE everything about the query process.

I hate writing the letters, I hate sending them out, I hate the waiting game, I even hate that the name in itself (query) sounds like some kind of anti-gay slur.

I mean, I get it. How else are agents, publishers, etc. going to know what your book is about? But there has to be a better way. That's what I'm going to try to do with my YouTube channel (which I've set up, but haven't posted any videos on yet--I will get to that, I promise). Although since I'm still querying, I guess it doesn't circumvent the whole process, it just gives me a more creative outlet to hopefully achieve the same goal.

Really, though, I'm a creative writer, not an advertising agency or some kind of marketing expert. I feel like  I'm a used car salesman writing what will appear on a window sticker....except that I'm trying to sell a word document. It feels wrong in some way, but it's a necessary evil. 

I know a lot of writers that struggle with this. We aren't salespeople--in fact, most of us are pretty introverted when it comes to putting ourselves out there in this manner, although I guess in the end, we all figure out a way.

So, here is to a weekend...and probably the rest of the week...full of sucking it up and being the used car salesman because I believe in my book that much :)