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The book I'm trying to write is going to be called The Wolf By The Side Of The Bed. Bear with me here, the summary's below.

Lawyer Nire Flow has just lost a case, and is on the verge of losing her job. One day, as she watches the news, she hears that a wolf has killed a woman. A bad feeling about the wolf's fate grows inside of her, but she brushes it off. The feeling grows and grows until the night of the wolf's euthanization, at which point she can't sleep. She rolls over on her side, and is mortified to see the wolf's spirit staring at her. It only says one thing 'I didn't kill her', and then it vanishes. Nire, spooked, decides to investigate. Every time she's at a dead end, the wolf appears and gives her another clue. Will Nire be able to unveil the real killer and avenge the Wolf By The Side Of The Bed?

Sooo…tell me what ya think.

Sounds excellent!!!!You should get it published

well not saying anything because I'm not those who will say the number from it but being writer ain't so easy so I Won't say anything I still wish you a luck because you really will need it....

This girl who was 8 published a book for the book make,LadyBird.

It sounds interesting. Hope to read a chapter before the month is over. :p

Only suggestion I have is maybe change the title. Try "The Wolf Beside My Bed."

Hmm…good suggestion. I'll think about it. Also, should I write it in 1st or 3rd person?

depends do you like in 1st or in 2 person, and also which one you like and can write better...

Well, I've started to write it in 3rd person, here's a little of it so far:

Lawyer Nire Flow sighed as she opened her eyes; she was in for a real tongue-lashing today. She lay still under her warm, soft down comforter, hoping that the heat would melt her guilt of losing one of the biggest cases in her life. Unfortunately, as cozy as the blanket around her was, her recollection of the trial may as well have been colder than the snow around Santa’s workshop, for nothing stopped the flood of memories that now surged in her mind. Wincing, Nire remembered the tension in the courtroom that day. The juror’s faces were neutral, the judge surly. Two years on trial had given him reason to glower at every being within the room, and he more than abused his reason.
She herself had donned a poker face, while the man on her right fidgeted with his tie. Nire gripped her suitcase’s handle; the following moment would reveal if she’d achieved her goal, or worked her rear off for two years for nothing.
Thoughts raced through her head, some of how she’d be congratulated and an inspiration to women everywhere if she won this case, others of how she’d be degraded and howled at if she lost it. A woman walked to the judge, and began to speak. Zoning out, the young lawyer stared into space until she heard the magic words.
“…In conclusion, we, the jury, have found the defendant, Winslow Brier…” ‘Come on, come on’ Nire thought as she bit her lip, “…guilty of first degree murderer.” The forty-five year old lawyer felt her jaw drop as her eyes widened. She couldn’t believe it; she just couldn’t believe it. They’d lost the case. Her client had lost his freedom. Gripping her suitcase with white-knuckled hands, she clenched her teeth; she’d be lucky if she made it through the week with her job.
One look into the eyes of the man on her right revealed disappointment; grieving, incredulous disappointment. She nodded briskly to him before marching him out of the room and pulling him through the sea of reporters, yelling ‘No comment, no comment.’ Once she and her client had gone their separate ways, she had gotten into her small blue Venus, jammed her foot down on the gas pedal, and headed for her apartment.
Wincing once more, she shook her head; time to get on with the long day before her. She swung her feet over the side of her bed, and groaned; a lot of wine had gone a longer way. Planting her feet on the floor, she stood and steadied herself. Her baby steps finally reached the bathroom, and another moan was uttered as she saw her face. Mascara ran in rivers down her cheeks, her hair was wild and tangled. Reaching for the eye makeup remover, she felt another pang as she remembered the previous night of drinking, crying, and vomiting. Nire froze as another thought hit her; why not call in sick? She certainly felt bad enough, and her hangover did nothing to improve her condition.
Staggering over to the kitchen, she clenched the phone and yanked it off of the receiver. Her fingers drilled the buttons, and she waited for the law firm secretary, Lanette Johnson, to answer. Sure enough, after what seemed like an eternity, the dial tone ended and was replaced with a jaunty, high-pitched voice that only gave or worsened headaches.

oooh nice, plz write more^^

It really sounds great, Wolfspirit. And I have to say that your plot is outstanding. The way you write it also makes you feel her mood. It is very great, write more!

cool i'v writen books they havent gone to the publisher yet but anyway if you want your book published like all the other books in the world you'll need an agent if you dont have one

Thanks; I didn't know that. By the by, how do I get an agent (for future reference)?

i dont know how to get one but i THINK i can tell you some publisher addresses i'll see if i can find them i saw some before do know wear though sorry anyway thats comming along great wolfspirit

Go to your local library, they should have something but be careful, it doesn't take much for people to "claim" they're an agent. Then from there it's basically a game of luck. If you haven't yet, I also suggest picking up On Writing by Stephen King.

Will do; thank's for the advice!