THREE. WEEKS.

Not since the long, sleepless days of my last pregnancy have I felt such overwhelming terror at the prospect of three short little weeks. Back then, I was terrified by the prospect of just three short weeks separating me and the reality of having two kids.

Now? I’m thinking three weeks is not nearly enough time for me to finish everything I need to do to prepare for the International Thriller Writers conference in New York City.

Ever since I booked my tickets a couple months ago, I’ve been in a happy state of denial. Mostly so I can get to sleep at night. When I’m too excited about something, I tend to have a terrible time trying to get to sleep. My brain happily whirls through everything I need to do, and all the things that could happen, and before I know it, I’ve whiled away two hours of nighttime silence I could have enjoyed unconscious.

I told myself New York is so far away, there’s no sense getting all worked up about it. I focused on finishing book #3 (Never Say Bai) and beginning revisions on book #2 (Take the Bai Road).

Now, though? New York is next frigging month and I need to get my butt in gear.

The trouble was, I was intimidated. I’ve been dreaming about the day I’ll get to travel to New York to pitch something I feel confident about for years. This is it. My big chance to either sink or swim in the gigantic, competitive world of New York publishing. I’ve worked my fingers practically to the bone whipping my work into shape and I feel ready.

The trouble is, getting ready. Just because my work is ready doesn’t mean I am.

For those not in the know, pitching at a conference, especially a big one like this, takes a lot of preparation. At least, if you want to do it right (and who wouldn’t?). You need to write your pitch. Then you need to delete your whole pitch and rewrite it because you decide all of a sudden that it sucks. You need a logline, an elevator pitch, and some snazzy business cards.

Once you have those in place, you need to do your homework. I’m attending PitchFest, which means I’ll be speed-dating with 40-50 agents and editors, not all of whom are looking for the kind of fiction I write. This means, I need to figure out who will and won’t be inclined to ask for more from me and research them. Figure out which authors they work with, what kind of fiction they tend to like, and common points of interest so that when I meet them we can have a pleasant conversation as opposed to a desperate scramble for a business card.

I feel like I need to clarify here that I will not be stalking these people. I’ll just be studying their websites and author lists with interest.

This is a lot of work, and until this week I was too scared to get started. There comes a point, though, where you simply have no choice but to kick your own ass. So that’s what I did.

Ready. Set. Go.