So, that peculiar time of the year when I eat too much chocolate and wander about the house like a helium balloon (i.e. not particularly useful but there all the same) has come and gone, and it’s back to work for me. Work means looking after the kids, and writing until my eyes bleed and my fingers become numb.

I’ve not really stopped over the holidays – not like I could when I worked 9 to 5; the urge to write can’t be turned off. Writers don’t get holidays. When we’re not writing, we’re thinking about writing, or reading about writing. That far away look in my eyes? Yup, that means my thoughts are away with the fairies (or in the case of my current WIP – the demons). We don’t get down time. The ideas don’t wait for the holidays to end.

As I was saying; didn’t really stop over the holidays. I dabbled in a bit of marketing for my short story, Hunted – in preparation for the release of the next novel, plus I sent some submissions to agents. Gasp! I know, I know, I was all for author-publishing and I still am but I’ve come to see the advantages to both sides of the coin. Since I’ve had my first rejection, I guess I can technically call myself a writer. So why the submissions? Well, for one, it just makes sense to seek an agent who knows a darn sight more than I ever will about the industry. Until I try it, I won’t know, will I? Never let it be said I won’t try something once. I’m all for making informed decisions, so I can’t say no to the traditional route without getting my feet wet. Right?

So I’ve been going through the rigmarole of query letters, synopsis, sample chapters, researching agents, and each submission went off with a little flurry of excitement. I fully expect to be rejected by all, while at the same time harbouring a tiny flutter of hope. Nothing ventured… (I love an adventure/challenge).

This is where I stand in 2014, with so many possibilities ahead. The agent game is one of luck as well as talent (I’m not suggesting I have either). It’s a little like standing in a room with a hundred doors, holding the key to your future, and then spending an indeterminate amount of time trying to get the damn key to fit the right lock. I do believe in luck, to a degree, but mostly I believe we make our own luck.

Let’s raise a glass to luck. And if luck doesn’t work, hello author-publishing. 😉