When I was fifteen and wanted to believe in wishes (against my better judgement and despite the fact that a '67 Mustang convertible never appeared in my garage), my friend Jane and I wished on cars with one headlight. "Pediddle!" we'd scream like...well, like teenage girls. An argument would ensue over who'd seen the pediddle, who'd called it first and whose wish would be coming true based on the unknown driver's faulty equipment.
Falling stars, four-leaf clovers, peddidles... I'll wish on anything tonight. I have the list of editors to whom Prairie Gothic has been submitted.
Need I say that I have googled them all? Or, that I have looked up every deal they've closed in the past twelve months?
By-the-by, 1,250 words a day is almost impossible when combined with a job, mothering and a host of other commitments. Word count for the current WIP is 16,855. I'll keep you updated.