I never thought March would ever see the light of day, Gentle Reader, and it’s been a joy to revisit this, my first “serious” novel writing. That is, Becoming was the first novel I wrote–how different it is now! How strange and awful that first draft was!–but March is the first novel I took seriously. The first novel I shopped around, to a few nibbles, but no bites.
Flash forward so many years later, over six years, in fact, and now, so much has changed. I have a supportive agent who likes my work and is excited by my projects. I have possibility. I have faith in myself. And that means the world.
I missed March. It’s a good book. And I’m enjoying trimming it, rewriting it, revisiting it, lo, these many years later. Fingers crossed, Friends, for success.
The Postmodern Bluestocking 