Carolrhoda books had a call for one month only (the month of September) for manuscript submissions to their lab. There was a list of don't-send-me's, so I analyzed the list and decided that my urban fantasy, Kiss Me Dead, wasn't on the don't-send-me list. I was, like, cool, I'm gonna send in my manuscript.
So I spent the month of September re-reading, re-editing, and re-tuning my manuscript. I was oh so pleased with myself when I looked at the calendar and saw I still had a whopping 3 days left in September to send that baby in.
Rubbing my hands with excitement, I logged back onto the editor's blog to check how he wanted it submitted. With heart stopping and stomach dropping, I re-read the blog again. Then a third time.
Oh. My. God.
He had a *maximum* word limit. I frantically went back to my manuscript and ran the word counter again.
Oh. My. God.
I was 7,500 words *over* the limit.
I got out the power tools. I sharped every blade I could get my hands on and then spent two days speed reading, chopping, hacking, sawing, and down-right slashing my manuscript. Every two point five seconds I'd re-check the word count, which moved backwards at about the same speed as a time machine going back in time. If you've ever been in a time machine to try to go back in time, you know what I mean. Impossible. Time doesn't go backwards. At all. Okay, so I'm exaggerating, since the word counter *did* move backwards, slowly. It just felt like it wasn't moving. At all.
With a day to spare, I made the word count.
Here's what I didn't do:
a) Re-read the manuscript.
b) Decide not to send it in because, well, I didn't re-read the manuscript.
c) Sweat the small stuff because I didn't re-read the manuscript and decided to go ahead and send it it anyway.
I mean, seriously, all he can do is take a pass. I've had worse done to me!