Zowie! I got all excited when I heard about the Sobol Award for an unagented, unpublished novel, then came down to earth when everyone said that it was a) a scheme to make lots of money by charging pre-pubbed writers $85.00 to enter, and that the Sobol L.A. had never sold any books anyhow (this is hearsay) and that you have to agree to be represented by Sobol when you enter. The prize is $100,000 so that ain't bad. It you charge 2000 writers 85 dollars a pop, well, you can do the math. They could easily get 5000 entries. Who knows how many good, bad and indifferent novels there are stuffed in drawers or on closet shelves and even in some obscure folder of one's computer?
So I won't enter.
Miss Snark and Preditors and Editors have given the contest thumbs down. More hopes dashed! Not that one of my books would win. I am not really a touchy-feely writer doing family stories. Sigh.
The "long" synopsis for Promiscuous Mode has been polished a bit and I inserted quotes here and there to give a flavor of the book. My cozy with an edge. Quite an edge, actually. Plenty of illicit sex and profanity, but the violence is all off-screen so to speak.
I worked hard all day and got everything done and now I am going to sit on the deck, admire the colors turning down in the slough and hope the hummingbird stops by for a nosh of nectar. And wine. Must drink wine.