I defended my thesis yesterday. What that means? I can graduate. What it doesn't mean? That my book is done. It needs a few more edits and then its time to start (gulp) looking for an agent, farming out chapters, and possibly applying for book contests, depending on how things go.
I look back at where I was four years ago, when Rane told me about my current program and I applied, and I can't believe where I am. I was struggling to write stories that exceeded five pages then, and I have to really fight to cut enough words to get a short-short below five pages now. It's a good place I'm in, but I'm really still just starting. With talent and a bit of luck, maybe I can push myself the rest of the way.
But for now, at least, I'm in celebration mode. Last night, the man and I went for happy hour at Felice's, a restaurant located in what was once a residence. The bar is on the second floor and has martinis called things like "You can call me Al." The mood music: all the golden oldies my dad loves best. The veggie taco was to die for. It contained, wait for it, barbequed black beans. Great atmosphere. Excellent food. And an impressive bartender. I recommend the place.
This weekend, I'll be tackling more wedding details: talking to the musician, making an appointment to visit the seamstress who will be altering my dress, and knitting more of the veil. It's coming along nicely.
On monday, I hunker down with my thesis committee's comments and start the next round of edits. Next stop, agents.