There comes a time in every man’s life where he is forced to simply jump up and down, scream and shout, and dare I say shake his hips with excitement. Today, is not one of those times. However, this past Saturday was. I know, I’m a little behind in my blogging, but seeing as how less than ten people probably read this thing, I guess I’m pretty much safe from an attack. So, on to the news. In case you weren’t aware, I attended the NYC Pitch and Shop Conference last weekend. What is it? Well, in short, 60 writers, one of whom was me, sit around in a few different rooms and figure out the best way to convince editors of major publishing houses why their lives are not complete without our manuscripts. We had a total of 4 days to “pitch” our novel concepts, essentially writing our own back covers to what we could only hope and pray would one day be birthed into existence with the aid of one of the big-time houses, waiting in desperation for that green light of acceptance. My group was filled with countless vessels of talent. The author of Dangerous Minds was among the gifted individuals in our literary circle, and she bought me breakfast! The other writers in company ranged from news reporters to romance novelists to scientific geniuses to top secret  military writers. I was honored merely to be in the group, let alone the youngest. Being only 19, and pitching my 3rd novel in the same room as so many accomplished individuals, and having them congratulate me on my accomplishments, was nothing short of a blessing. After all was said and done, in my personal group of about 16, half were requested by editors. But mine was one of them. One could assume that my bribing paid off. But no, really, there was no bribing, maybe a wink of allure on my part, but no financial assistance, just good writing…I guess, and some help from the Divine.

It is my absolute pleasure to announce that an editor from Penguin requested A Boy Called Arson. When I heard this, a myriad of emotions stormed through me. I couldn’t help thinking: “Well, why didn’t the other editors want it, too?” and I should’ve been thinking: “Thank you, Jesus, someone actually gives a crap about my writing.” Considering the novel is primarily about the idea of acceptance, I suppose I should spend a little more time rejoicing over conquering one giant. The glass is half full, right?

So now begins the real struggle. The biting my nails, chewing my lip, scratching my curly head of hair kind of struggle to complete the manuscript in a reasonable amount of time. Wish me luck!

Estevan (DW)