Deadlines are my friends.
I went to lunch with two writer friends today.
We talked about our work. They gave me good feedback on the first chapter of my memoir. I realized, while talking with them, that I've written half a dozen versions of that chapter over the past two years. Some I've moved to later parts of the book; others I scrapped entirely.
I think I'm finally getting close. I also think I've been dragging my damn feet and making too many excuses for not moving on.
We've scheduled another date for late August. We're going to send out writing a week in advance and then critique each other over lunch. It's refreshing to have something of a deadline for the memoir again. I got more done this morning, prepping my work for them, than I have in the past three months.
I also signed up for an agent pitch session at Hippocamp in September. I admit, I was disappointed by the last one. I didn't get a single word of feedback, good or bad. I would have taken bad feedback over silence; at least then I might have learned something. But I still shelled out the $35 fee this year, just to have the deadline. I might not make any progress between now and September 10, but I've bet $35 that I'll have a cover letter and a representative chapter or two to share.