A lot happened at Realm Makers, including something really really big.
As I said yesterday, I rushed to finish editing Sons of Starborn before Realm Makers. But why?
Well. Let me lay it out for you…
A Little Story
Halfway through the session, my hands started to shake.
I swallowed and glanced at the time. Twenty minutes till I had to go. I had time. Lots of time. Or that’s what I told myself. My foot began to bounce against the carpeted floor. I fiddled with my pen, staring at the speaker, Lindsay Franklin, trying to get back into the flow of her words. Twenty minutes. So much time.
Then it was nineteen minutes.
Eighteen. What did Lindsay Franklin just say about dancing in the forests of insanity?
Seconds crawled by. Minutes dragged on. My pen slashed across the paper. Darn it. I ignored the long black streak and started a new line. Seven minutes left. As Princess Anna would say, “It’s agony to wait!”
One minute. I released a tight breath. Within moments, I had shoved my sticker-covered notebook and favorite pen into my enormous Lord of the Rings bag. I pushed back my chair and stood as subtly as possible. Somehow I didn’t drop my phone or knock over a table or step on someone’s foot. I can be a master of disaster when I’m like this.
I slid out the doors and headed for the escalators, ignoring the milling folks chatting on their way between the expo hall and the sessions. Checking the email for what may have been the millionth time, I sucked in a deep breath, forcing my lungs start working again. Upstairs to the left of the escalators.
Aye aye, cap’n. With another deep breath, I stepped onto the escalators. I nearly tripped over my own feet. Thank goodness I had gone with sandals instead of my big clunky combat boots, or it all would have ended right there.
The escalator rolled up and up while I fiddled with my bag strap, rechecked the email, anything to distract myself. I stuck my hand into my hoodie pocket, rolling the little jar of polished stones over in my hands.
The top. At last. I released a shaky breath and hopped off the escalator, the cloth fins on my dragon scale leggings smacking my legs. I looked around. An open space to the right with way too many openings and doorways. To the left?
A wall. A doorless wall.
I might have died a little inside right there.
I sucked in another breath as my chest tightened. “Okay, so we go the other left,” I muttered, turning to the right, which is not left, people. Come on. I know we’re writers, but even writers should be able to tell left from right.
I scanned the area. At least three hallways I could follow and two closed doors. People wandered around or lounged on couches, but I zoned in two people chatting on the couch directly ahead of me. They wore the purple volunteer ribbons hanging off their name tags, but most importantly, they had open, cheerful faces.
Of course, I would be interrupting their conversation, but I mean, this is what they signed up for, right?
I forced my feet towards the volunteers, gripping the jar of rocks tighter. The stones clinked faintly from the jostling of my shaking hand.
“Hey,” I choked out. “You’re volunteers, right?”
Stupid. Of course they were volunteers. They were literally wearing name tags with the word volunteer attached.
“Yeah!” The guy smiled like I’d just given him a cupcake with extra sprinkles. Some of the pressure in my chest released. “Can we help you with anything?”
I swallowed, hefting my backpack a little higher. “Actually, you can. Do you–do you know where the appointments are?”
The guy’s face lit up with understanding. He pointed to his left. “Right over there, past the escalators on the right. There’s a table there to sign in and find the person you have an appointment with.”
Right. Not left. Seriously, people.
I gave him a weak grin. “Thank you so much.”
The woman suddenly gained her voice. “When is your appointment?”
And there were the butterflies again. I swallowed and checked my phone. “It’s in seven minutes.”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine.” The guy patted the empty seat next to him. “Would you like to sit with us for a few minutes? Let out some of those jitters?”
Great. Was it that obvious? A nervous laugh bubbled out as I sat. “Thanks.”
The woman folded her hands, smiling gently. “Would you like to practice for your appointment or just sit and chat?”
“Sit and chat, please.” I squeezed the jar of stones. I’d already practiced a thousand times and asked quite a few people to critique it, including my English teacher mom. I could use conversation with actual human beings for once.
The guy unleashed his sunshine grin again. “You know, after my first one, I ran outside and cried my eyes out. It didn’t even go badly!”
“Except you had to pretend you weren’t crying, because you’re such a man,” the woman joked.
“Subtle sniffles,” he agreed.
“Your eyes were clearly watering because of allergies.” I bit my lip at the wobble in my voice. “You must be allergic to feelings.”
“Exactly!” The guy laughed.
We chatted, mostly about writing and past experiences. My knee stopped bouncing as we talked. I was still shaky, but I would remember these people for the rest of my life. They had given me a moment of respite before I plunged into the depths. I checked my phone again. Three minutes. I hesitated. “I should probably go. Don’t want to miss it.”
“Of course!” As I stood, the guy spoke again, quickly, as if my urgency had bled out and was contaminating everyone around me. “Could we pray for you?”
The claws squeezing my chest loosened. My heart swelled. “Oh. Of course. I would really appreciate that.” I sat back down, bowing my head as the guy prayed for me, my writing journey, and God’s plans for my life.
Once he was done, I hastily pulled out my little jar of stones. “Thank you. Um, I actually have something for you guys.”
I uncorked the jar and dumped the tiny, smooth rocks onto my palm. I held out my hand. “Pick the one that calls to you the most.”
“Oh!” The woman gently plucked up a striped stone. “Tiger’s eye!”
I grinned. The guy picked a green rock. “My son will love this. This is Owen’s rock now. Thank you! You’ll do great, you know.”
“Thank you for everything.” I met each of their gazes before spinning to hurry to my appointment.
And lo and behold, there was Mom and all four of my siblings, walking towards me from the escalators.
I rushed over to them and collapsed into Mom’s hug. “Hey!”
“Hey.” Mom glanced at the volunteers. “Who’re they?”
“Some volunteers. They told me where to go.” I smiled, then paled. “Oh. I should really go.”
Mom kissed my forehead. “You’ll do great, baby.”
Three hugs from my sisters and a shoulder pat from my brother later, I was rushing off, past the escalators and down the hallway. There was the table, just like the volunteers said. I took a few shaky breaths. I felt like I was going to crumple into a rag doll and turn into a flock of butterflies at the same time.
“Hi.” I approached the table, shoving my hands into my pockets to hide how hard they were shaking. “I have an appointment with Janelle Leonard at 3:15.”
The woman behind the desk nodded. She pointed to an open door. “She’s in there. The volunteer at the door will let you know when she’s ready.”
Heart pounding like a drum on hyperdrive, I thanked her and stood awkwardly by the door. The volunteer on the stool beside it smiled at me, her gray bob sweeping forward as she tilted her head. “First time?”
I swallowed and nodded. How obvious was it?
She beamed at me. “You’ll do great.”
I nodded, hefting my backpack higher.
The door minder checked her watch. “Time’s up!” she called into the room. Then she winked at me. “Your turn. Good luck, sweetie.”
Well. Here goes nothing. I squeezed the jar of stones and stepped through the doorway into my first book pitch appointment.
To Sum It Up
Miss Janelle was incredible. I’m so glad my first experience pitching a book was with her. She turned out to be super friendly, open, and squirrelly, which actually worked quite well. We bounced off each other’s random trains of thought.
To make a long story short, she asked me to email her a book proposal with the first three chapters!
I sent it Tuesday evening, and by Wednesday she had responded, assuring me that she will have read it and will send me her answer by the end of August at the latest.
Pray for Sons of Starborn and this incredible opportunity! I’ll be keeping you all updated!
Blessings and joy,
–Astor
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