Who am I? I am who?

Who am I? I am the clever little unknown girl randomly typing this while sitting on the bathroom floor. I am a person you could pass on the street, having no clue what goes on upstairs. I am the girl who English teachers say have potential, and math teachers hope my potential lies elsewhere. I am not a self-published author, or a midlist writer. I am not even old enough to work the cash register at Wal-Mart. I am the writer desperate to make the plunge. I am the writer who wants to publish.

There are so many questions I have. I have no idea how publishing works! I have no idea how to find a literary agent or get a publisher interested in my work. I have no idea how to advertise myself; I mean I haven’t even lived long enough to purchase liquor in the United States! Usually I can push these questions back when I’m writing because well, I’m writing, I’m not finished yet.

But…I am now. Well not finished finished. I’m finished with the big picture the ultimate first and second drafts that took me two years of forgoing friends, parties, and extracurricular activities to finish. Currently I’m undergoing a massive amount of editing, and much to my chagrin, the thoughts of publishing are creeping up behind me. Sometimes they’re fantasies of becoming a hit like JK Rowling or George RR Martin (two of my very favorite authors on the planet) and the other thoughts are the painful ones that cripple me, make me feel like a failure, and make me want to delete the thousands of words I’ve poured into my computer.

So starting tonight, research will also take up a bit of my editing time. 

This is not going to be fun is it?