…long enough to type. So, after getting very upset about the Comic-Con professional registration, for which I was certain I would never qualify with my one little anthology submission, I went crying to my good friend (who is constantly saving me from myself!) and she, one, let me AND my mother register as her guests so we could still go, but she also, two, told me to try applying anyway. Because what’s the worst that could happen, except for soul-crushing disappointment?
As usual, I am pleased to be reminded that I have friends with a lot more sense than I have. I applied, saying nothing here out of the continued conviction that I would not get in and unwilling to face posting another sad, sad story of my failure to be a pro. I sent in my photocopied credits and contracts and waited for an email to arrive. This morning, it did.
Say hello to the newest pro attending Comic-Con 2010.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to stop my hands from shaking with unused adrenalin (I need a more exciting life if this gets my heart rate going) and write my overdue working review. Somehow, my word counts seem shiny and new today.