It took us about a week to clean out each room in the house in prep to sell our wares. And oh the lovely wares: bikes, beds, games, and gadgets. Accumulation. Everyone does it. And for me and my hubs, two greenies at best, we definitely have our share of objects destined for repurposing and recycling. We are dreadfully guilty of giving treasures new life, which means, parting with trinkets can often feel like selling a kidney.
And people want them organs, let me tell ya. The characters came a-crawlin’ in seek of something for nothing: wedding goers (dressed to the nines) killing time till dinner, dudes ditching family picnics, musicians waiting their gig-time downtown, antique dealers, farmers, cyclists, the boo radleys—the works. We also had the escarpment tourists and the boldest barterers, looking to trade six cobs of corn and a cantaloupe for an old wagon. And what the hell? Guess what we had for dinner? Yep, corn on the cob.
Having a garage sale today felt a lot like editing my manuscript. It went something like this. Clean a room. Remove crap. Change my mind. Put crap back. Take another look. Remove the crap again. Repeat. This is a similar process of revision that I scuffle through with my middle-grade fiction novel. The only difference being: I have sold the damn wagon—and not the manuscript.
Progress update: My agent-search continues, with 3 full MS requests & 5 partials. Bring it on. Haggle me. I’m ready.