Cliff jumping


Yeah, so you're wondering why I'm posting a bikini pic on my blog. And... you're wondering if I've jumped into some kind of time machine.

Wish I could tell you that time travel wasn't fictional, but that's really me a while back. Big T in 17. That was my nickname the year I was seventeen. That was the year I went cliff jumping. That was the year I was brave. And I'm trying to get a little bit of her back again.

I am in the process of querying (sending out query letters to prospective literary agents for my novel)  - a slow process as it's summertime and I have a wild and sweaty three year old on my hands all day.

I won't go into the mechanics of how many queries I've sent out and how they're doing, but I'm proud that I'm making a start and learning.

It's a lot like cliff jumping. When I was 17 on the Big Island we went to this secret spot where you could jump off a cliff into the ocean. Y'all. This is so not the kind of thing I do. But you know what? I did it.

You know how? I just jumped. There was no preamble. No thinking about it. No standing on the edge and looking over. I just jumped as quick as I could.

It was a blast, ocean water up the nose, bathing suit wedgie and all. It was even more of a rush because it's not the sort of thing I do. I was ferociously proud of myself in that moment.

The odd thing was, weeks later I went back and I couldn't do it. I stood on the edge looking over and I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I hesitated. I waited too long and the fear took over.

Sending out query letters to prospective agents feels the same way. The hardest part is thinking about doing it. Standing on the edge, pondering it, but not having the will to jump. The hardest part is just hitting send on the email.

Once I hit send, well, it's like flying through the air into that bracing ocean water. It's exhilarating. It's a rush. It's all downhill after that.

Not that querying is easy. I've spent months working on my query letter and synopsis. And now comes the waiting. Now come the rejection letters.

But you know, it still feels like jumping was the hardest part.

Part of what helped me jump off the cliff on the Big Island was my big, rowdy group of friends who were confidently plunging into the ocean themselves, not to mention the boys I was trying to impress with my bravado.

But I'm not 17 anymore. And I don't have a big, rowdy group of friends who are querying with me and cheering me on. That would certainly help! We could all order up a round of drinks to celebrate after hitting send. Or hey, just go cliff jumping.

But these days, it feels lonely, like it's just me, at that cliff alone, trying to get up the courage to leap.

So, if you wanna send me any virtual cheers or hugs, I'll take all the encouragement I can get to keep jumping, even if I don't know exactly what I'm jumping into.

May we all have the courage to go cliff jumping, at least once in our lives!

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