I've been struggling with some of the edits to my upcoming release, more because of the other distractions in my life at the moment.
We are in the thick of "season" at the day job. March Madness (not related to basketball, but to volume of work).
Why did I think I could release a book this time of year? What made me think I could write a book, period? Who's going to want to read this drivel? This is known as writer's angst. It strikes at the most inopportune times, and I spent my weekend in the throes, mostly because my time is at a premium. So when my husband asked me if I was ready to go to the grocery store and I bit his head off with "Don't rush me! I have enough stress!" his eyes grew very wide and he stepped silently backward, away from the crazy lady.
On Monday morning, the day after the time change, mind you (and yes, I am a morning person), I woke up to American Authors singing "The Best Day of My Life." 5:20 a.m. I actually jumped out of bed and started singing (please don't call the men in the white coats yet). I had a fresh frame of mind, a new beginning to a new day. I'd been thinking through the edits I'd done the night before (which I was NOT happy with) and "saw the light." I knew what I wanted to do to make the story "right."
On my train ride into the Big City, I wrote notes to work with later on. And then I got into the office. Little by little, my enthusiasm started to wane with the heavy weight of work piling on once more, capped off by one of the people who work for me telling me they were taking a day off at the next deadline. Not asking, telling. At the deadline. Leaving us short-handed. At the deadline. These are the days where I hate my job. Fortunately, these types of days are limited, due to the highly seasonal nature of work that we do.
Tomorrow is another day. I'm on deadline at the day job, and I'm on deadline to get my book in the best shape it can be for release day. God willing, I will accomplish both deadlines without losing too much hair.