"What do you mean, 'it is not time?'"

In 2004, I had been working on Judas Christ for 14 years. I wrote in pulses, sometimes several months at a time. Usually, when I finished a pulse, I knew what the next piece was going to be, but not how it was going to play out. I would then take months to "stew on it." During that time, I became a sponge. I would absorb all different kinds of information, hear all different kinds of programs, speeches, sermons, and best of all... news programs.

I had this strange delusion that I was writing at precisely the right pace, because as I stewed, some new finding would make itself known. A simple explanation of that is how I learned about "The Allais Effect" where gravity goes silly under a total solar eclipse. (Or not.) But I heard about it, and it became part of my story. Well, if you are astute, that infers that either:

1. someone/thing is controlling my circumstances, including the world as a whole
   
2. someone/thing is controlling my pace
3. I'm just the luckiest dog in the dog pound.
   

I won't debate either of these choices here. But I will say this...

"The World has changed..."
In September 2001, something happened which brought the writing to a halt. 9/11 cast a glaring shadow on all things Islamic, and sadly, all things Arabic. In Judas Christ, many of the main POV characters are Islamic Arabs. They go on a hajj to Mecca, where the glory of Islam is shown to Judas. I painted Arabic Islam in a very positive light... that light was counter to the negative shadow. And that shadow cast itself on both my writing, and my writings. I had two choices... change the story, or wait for the shadow to abate. That was an easy choice... and so I waited. But not all that is forgotten is lost.

For when "Mongoose" read some of my writing and asked, "Why don't you try to get this published", I answered in a deadpan voice, "It's not time." I stated it as simply as if I said "My bike tire is flat." It was self evident to me. The world was not ready for Islamic heroes.

Life progressed, chaos spun and the winter grew bleak and lonely. I found warmth only from writing, especially, one delightful character. And so I wrote... A chance intersection of two characters became a most-unlikely of romances and changed the handling of the ending. I told you that stewing is good. But it still wasn't time. I had answered a call of duty, as a black knight to his beloved liege, and I didn't have time or energy to write. Besides, the world wasn't ready.

The usual silence
Then one night, I had a dream... (relax, it's not THAT kind of dream.) In my dream, those who hated me prospered, and I suffered. I literally lay in bed after awakening, and lamented my state. I was out of a job (again), I had 12 stitches in my forehead, which resembled a centipede crawling on my face. Not the best ambiance for job hunting. I had no car, no prospect, little hope. And to make matters worse, it was my Sweetest Friend's birthday, and I couldn't afford a postage stamp to mail her a card, let alone a Benz or some ice. :-( I asked the universe, God, or whomever was listening, 'why?' With the usual silence, I reached up for my mouse to awaken my sleeping computer, and whimpered cynically... "Well, let's see what the world has to offer me today." I crawled up into my chair from my mattress on the floor and opened ABCNEWS.com.

"Gospel of Judas Found"
HOLY SHHHHHIIITE REBELLION!!! I read the article, Googled for more. I was not as interested in what the articles, or even the so-called gospel said. The very fact that Judas' name was front page news was all I needed. It was as if my mother had turned on the light and yelled "YER LATE!" And as Louis Tully in Ghostbusters declared the signs of the coming Gozer the Destroyer, so too did I have my own declaration...

"It is time!"
A "big twinkie" of energy had burst its spiritual harbingers everywhere among the indolent populace. I became rabid. I became The Keymaster, and the chains of public opinion and political climate were unlocked, and Judas Christ arose.

I immediately hit the web, searching for an agent. I had the leverage of Headline Judas, and I was going to finally move forward. Within 3 days, I had an agent. I recruited the help of "Darth Velner" to edit my work and get the manuscript into ship shape and Bristol fashion. When I received the requirements for the submission, I whipped up the manuscript, the sample, the bio, the synopses. In less than 45 days, I had the package in hand. And September 24th, 2006, I submitted my work.

Well, not all the glisters is gold, and what appeared to be an agent, was not. Who knew? Lots of people. I was so gloryblinded, that I didn't do the simplest things I would normally do... like GOOGLE my agent's name and firm. So, at the very best, nothing happened. At worst, I was scammed. I fired them the instant the "contract" allowed.

Yes, but...
But I got a manuscript in shape for it. I tasted the words on my own tongue... "I have an agent." Like tequila and cinnamon schnapps mixed, once you taste that, you won't UN-taste it. And you won't stop craving it. It was that manuscript that I took to Southern California Writer's Conference. There I focused high on soaring ambitions, grasped my fire, and tasted the single desire to drive this thing home. Because, depending on whichever of the 3 above you astutely chose, once it's time... it's time.

If I needed more confirmation of that, I got it tonight. Wait till you find out what I heard on the radio... American Public Media's Marketplace radio program, of all places...