"Then WHY isn't the book out yet?!?!?!?!"
Now that's a little bit more complicated. You see, a few weeks ago, I submitted my manuscript to a book novel contest and I won't get the results back from that contest for at least another month. I'm going to wait to publish until AFTER I've heard back from that contest. The reason? Because if by some crazy chance I were to place in that competition, I would get some editing help from the people in charge of the competition and to me that would be a huge help! Although my chances of placing in this competition are small, I would appreciate prayer that the Lord's will would be done and that I would learn through this experience.
The second reason I'm not self-publishing yet, is because I've sent off my manuscript to a few select publishers. Now the chances of me actually getting published are smaller than the chances of me winning the contest, but I would like to get my rejection letters back before I self-publish.
I guess in closing, I'll leave you with another excerpt from Mission of a Lifetime.
. . .After checking in with the secretary he paced the waiting room. When he felt sure that an hour had gone by he glanced at the receptionist’s desk. “Is he ready yet?” Willie adjusted his tie with a trembling hand and studied the secretary.
Miss Fran didn’t even look up from her computer screen. “The answer hasn’t changed. No.” Her fingers clacked away in rhythm but it wasn’t having a calming effect on Willie.
He ran a sweaty hand over his hair. The cowlick on the front of his black hair wouldn’t stay down, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
Pacing the small waiting room he clenched and unclenched his fists.
“Would you sit down?” Miss Fran asked gesturing towards a chair by the window. “You won’t hurry him by pacing.”
Willie strolled towards the lone chair and sat down. Running his hands over his knees he took a deep breath. He glanced over his shoulder and his stomach flipped. He stood to his feet and walked across the room. These high buildings sure didn’t have the kind of view he liked. In fact, nothing in the city had the view he liked.
Miss Fran’s chair creaked as she leaned back and drummed the tips of her fingers together. “What is your business with Mr. Adams? He doesn’t want to see you any more than you want to see him. What’s it been? Two years since you were here last?”
Willie frowned. “I’ll discuss my business with him personally if you don’t mind.”
“I’m just glad I’m not in your shoes. He’s having a bad day,” Miss Fran continued.
“What a surprise,” Willie muttered.
The phone beeped and Miss Fran picked it up. “Yes, Mr. Adams?”
There was a pause then Miss Fran nodded. “I’ll tell him.” Miss Fran set the phone down and turned back to Willie. “He’ll see you now, but he said to warn you, he’s not giving out charity.”
Willie took a deep breath and entered the office.
Mr. Adams sat behind his oak desk with a stone like expression. “Have a seat.”
Willie sat down and cracked his knuckles.
Mr. Adams wrinkled his nose. “You better have a good reason for taking my time like this.”
Willie frowned. “It’s about my parents.”
Mr. Adams face showed no sympathy. “I was very sorry to hear about your parents but if you’re anything like them, you aren’t here to get my sympathy. What’s the bottom line?”
Willie felt the heat rising in his cheeks. Am I crazy? He wondered. Shaking his head Willie leaned forward. It was in God’s hands, what did he have to worry about?
“I want an airplane.”
Mr. Adams leaned back with wide eyes. “And you want me to give you a good deal on one?”
“No, Sir.” Willie paused. Wiping his sweaty hands on his pant legs he took a deep breath. “I want you to give me an airplane. I would probably only need it for a few weeks, but it would be a rough few weeks for the plane.”
Mr. Adams coughed a bit. “Are you feeling alright? Do you have any idea how much that would cost?”
“Yes, Sir, that’s why I’m asking you. I know you can afford it, and I know if Dad were here, he would have asked you.”
“William, you’re crazy. This is not a charity organization. You’re probably not even responsible enough to own a plane. How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-one years old, and I have a pilot’s license.” Willie straightened his shoulders. “You know I’m good with engines.”
Mr. Adams lowered his eyebrows. “You’re planning on going after them aren’t you?” He leaned forward. “Do you have any idea what kind of a risk you would be taking? Your parents don’t want you risking your life like that. Besides, I’m sure they’re long dead.”
“I would rather die in the attempt to save them, than stay here, perfectly safe, and not knowing what happened to them. As soon as you give me a plane, I’m going to go find them.”. . .