My poor fingernails.

Okay, I know I said we'd discuss Salem today, but more important things have happened. Scarier things. Well, to be fair, one scary thing.

My mom came over.

All right, so maybe that requires some explanation. My mom and I have very similar personalities. Which is to say, we're both very reserved people. We don't call each other on the phone to chat. Honestly, I don't call much of anyone to chat. I'm not chatty. I nervously babble from time to time, but that's not the same. Anyway, the point is, we hadn't caught up in a while.

This would also probably be a good time to explain that no one I know reads this blog. Yes, I've met a couple of the people, but the ones I've met in person were met online before that happened. My family kind of knows I've written a book, but they all still like to refer to it as a hobby and none of them reads this blog.

Reason? I'm a giant scardy-cat.

Listen, I have absolutely no problem putting my work out there for all the world to judge. I don't even have a problem with receiving negative reactions face to face. But having my family read it? Frightens the Levis right the hell off of me.

So, like I said, my mom came over and, over the course of the conversation, we discussed the conference. I told her what the agent said. I told her I agreed with the agent. She made a face. A skeptical, scrunched-up, who's-cooking-cabbage face. It seems she disagreed.

She told me she wanted to read the manuscript, because, she said, she'd be able to tell what was wrong with it. She probably wouldn't even need to read the whole thing. I said, you're supposed to want to read the whole thing. To which she replied, oh, I hope so.

In short, my mom has kidnapped my manuscript because she feels she'll know better than an industry professional (and me) what I should do. And, let me tell you, she doesn't pull punches.

Someone hold me.

I kid. I kid. But any positive vibes you want to send my way would be appreciated. I'll be over here gnawing my fingernails.