Who Says Bitching and Complaining Isn’t Productive??

So yesterday after bitching and complaining about Murphy, I managed to write a 15 page Epilogue on HOF. Which is awesome because it was a big item on the short list of things my lovely agent told me she really wanted me to accomplish before she sent me a long list of line-edits, which I should be getting any day.

Chwenk!! (That is the sound of me hitting rewind without stopping first. I know there is no such thing as rewind anymore because this is the digital age, but I miss the sound effect on days like this.) I am starting to realize that my reaction to getting signed has been WAY not typical. In an understated, oh, look, an email from Deidre, how nice! kind of way. I mean, yes, I nearly peed myself when she offered representation. Yes, I did an appropriate amount of jumping up and down and pantomiming to my husband who was out in the yard snowblowing (he probably thought I had a spider in my shirt). And yes, I took very detailed notes during our conversation about necessary rewrites. But after we hung up, that’s where things got kind of dicey. I kind of flaked for a few weeks and pretended to just be going along as normal – as evidenced by the fact that I er… FORGOT TO ANNOUNCE THE GOOD NEWS FOR PETE’S SAKE!! Oh, sure, I worked on this and that. I brainstormed ideas for the epilogue. I scribbled notes on post-its and put them in my cavernous purse and never saw them again. And well HELL, frankly, I knew everything had changed and I was still acting the same, and that was going to bite me in the ass – I just didn’t know when exactly. And I prayed it would be a gentle bite. I remember saying to my husband as I sealed the envelope – “Are you SURE you don’t want a divorce? This is going to bring my writing to a whole new level of crazy. I’m going to actually have rewrites and deadlines. It’s a job. That I’m not getting paid for until it’s DONE. You might never see a home-cooked meal again.” To which he SQUEED and told me he all he wants is a mansion, a boat, a private island, and a puppy when I make it big. To which, if my memory serves me correctly, I think I blinked, sighed, and chose the Watermelon catapults for my next round of Plants Vs Zombies.

And yeah, well…just before the weekend, I got an email from my lovely agent suggesting in a very friendly way that I might want to put my bum in my chair and get cracking! Because you know, the book isn’t going to rewrite and submit itself! Oh yeah… that. Well, at least it was gentle.

All I could think was: OMG. I am just a BIG OLD MESS, aren’t I?? I have an agent, I have a list of revisions, and what am I doing?? Still getting up, going to work, coming home, slinging chop suey, hollering at the kids to clean up their messes, watching Vampire Diaries and American Idol and scribbling plot notes on post-its and receipts in my spare time! I need to get CRACKING!! Ass in chair? What is this? How do I do that? Oh yeah. Ass. Chair. Broken computer. WHAT? “Oh no!” doesn’t cut it anymore! How about FIX IT!!

Yes. Yes. Do that. Must fix computer. Must write. Epilogue = Good. Breaking up fistfights between two sons = Bad. Coffee = Life. Me = Tarzan. Husband = Jane. Write. Yup yup.