Aiming high and tripping over my tongue

This afternoon, GoofyJ wrote about misplacing things. I think I can "one-up" her; you see, a few days ago, I lost my brain.



Last week, I decided I was stuck "in a rut" with my writing. Sure, I've gotten a few things published, and I love what I do; but I deduced, if I want to "go anywhere" in this career, I'll have to start going for the bigger markets. Highlights magazine was my first target.



I read Highlights when I was a small child, and just the thought of submitting something to them made my heart race faster than a herd of spooked wild horses. Everything has to be perfect, I thought. I went over my favorite children's manuscript with a "fine tooth comb," making sure every " 'i' was dotted, every 't' crossed". When it got to the point I was so sick of the story, I wished an ill fate for my main character, I tortured my hubby by making him read it. He really wasn't interested in helping; but his mind changed when I threatened to hide the cheesecake brownies I had just removed from the oven. Chocolate, in the right hands, is a very powerful weapon. Finally, I felt the manuscript was ready.



I double-checked the submission guidelines on the website, and wonder upon wonders, saw that they took phone queries, meaning you could pitch your story to them over the phone. There was a lump in my stomach the size of Houston as I dialed the editorial number; to my surprise, the phone was answered on the first ring.



"Highlights," chirped a sunny female voice, "can I help you?"

I drew a blank; my mind was a blank slate. I couldn't remember the pitch I had rehearsed, and for one panic stricken moment, I couldn't even remember my name. .

"Highlights magazine. Can I HELP you?" the editor repeated, obviously agitated.

I couldn't speak, couldn't ever whisper. The only thing I could do was breathe heavy into the receiver, like some sicko. "Umm. . .yes sir. . .I mean madam. I-I wanna pitch a phone query." What the heck is wrong with me? I wondered. I had given speeches before, acted, and was never a loss for words. Now I was doing good to remember who I was.

"Okay. What's the title of your book."

"I'll tell you when I remember," I answered glibly. "I think my coffee has worn off and it's affecting my brain."

"I hear that," Editor replied, laughing softly. "Just take your time."

The floodgates to my brain opened, and sounding like a chimpmunk on a caffeine rush, I spouted off my query. Well, I botched that up. "I honestly write better than I talk." I babbled.

"You did great; wonderful for your first phone query," Editor replied soothingly. "I like your story idea. Send it in and we'll consider it."

I couldn't believe my luck. The next day the entire manuscript was on its way. Haven't heard anything yet, but I'm thinking positive.

After a weekend of vegging out, my brain is back to normal, or what I consider to be normal.