Page 89 of Player For Hire

“Well, lay it on me instead.” Iona stood and went to the fridge. She came back with two glasses of wine and handed me one. “Pals before peens.”

I snickered and sat up. “You’re right. I finished the book.”

“What?” She set her glass down and launched herself at me. Iona wasn’t exactly the most demonstrative person, especially sober.

We fell into a giggling pile. I wrapped my arms around her, making sure my glass didn’t dump down her back.

She sat next to me and reached for her glass to hold it up. “Now that deserves a cheers.”

“Cheers.” Something inside me was a little sad that I didn’t tell Colder first. But Iona was the first one to be the most supportive. She definitely deserved to know first.

“I didn’t know you were that close.”

“Yeah, I’ve been a mad woman for the last few days as I figured out the ending. I’m ninety percent sure it’s there.”

I just had to clean everything up on the next pass. Little changes that needed to be made to fit the characters who were now more fully formed.

There was such a learning curve to actually finishing a book.

It had been more than half done when I’d started. Actually, it had been closer to three quarters, but with rewrites, it felt as if I’d started all over again. Even if the rewrites were more like additions. Fleshing out the bones I’d already had.

“I’m so proud of you.”

Swallowing hard, I teared up. “Iona, don’t get me going.”

She pointed a finger at me. “No waterworks. Then I’ll cry, and I hate fucking crying.”

I sniffled and sucked them back. “Nope. No crying.”

“Hey!”

“I’m not crying.” I dabbed at the corners of my eyes to stop the flow. “I just can’t believe I finished it.”

“I can. When you put your mind to something, you’re definitely a finisher.” She winked. “That’s what she said.”

I laughed since it was a well-abused saying on one of Iona’s favorite shows, The Office. “The next problem is querying. God, I started doing research this afternoon and I’m just...” I put my hand over my suddenly churning belly. “It’s overwhelming.”

“You can always self pub if you don’t want to leap into that rat race.”

“I know. And I will if there’s no bites. But I have so many decisions to make.” I took a fortifying sip of my wine. My list had lists. And all of them were overwhelming. “Let’s just say writing the book is the easy part.”

“Maybe you should find an agent. Wait, I know.” Iona held up her hand. “I know you know a lot about the publishing world, but nonfiction is a different beast. It can’t hurt to actually research that part.”

I collapsed against the cushion. “Maybe.”

I’d been on Reddit boards and enough Discord channels to make my head spin. Horror stories about submissions and how long the process had taken had killed any appetite I had.

I should have just stewed in the good part for a little longer.

“Damn your planning brain.” Iona pulled her feet up to crisscross her legs.

I laughed. “I was just thinking the same. But time is running out. I only have a few more weeks of my severance.”

“Somehow May is right on top of us.”

“I know. And it’s going to take a lot of time to do the queries and there’s no guarantee that anyone will give a shit about the book.”

“Hey! No defeatist talk already. You haven’t even started that stuff.”