Come tomorrow, Orca Books will have had my manuscript for five months. This is a wonderful thing. As long as I haven’t received a full-out rejection, my book is still being considered by the editor. In the meantime, I’m trying my best to “carry on writing.”
My mood swings between optimistic to a state of “prepare thyself pilgrim for a big ole letdown. “
I’ve replaced my problem with coffee with a problem with tea. Healthier? Not sure yet.
I also know that I will not be contacting the editor. This is a busy time for her. She’s preparing for the fall launch. She’s busy with authors and illustrators and copy editors, meetings, printers…
All this while she works her way through a slush pile. I know (many don’t) that most of her reading is done at home, during her (haha) ‘off time.’
Still, I’m jumpy. The phone rings and I hold my breath, hoping against hope “she” is calling me. I’m sure I’ve insulted dozens of people as of late with my less than enthusiastic, “Oh, it’s just you. Hi.”
Meanwhile, I keep plugging away at my next book; I reach my daily quota.
Life is good and busy. I’m an emotional mess. In fact, I’m such a ditz that if … IF… she calls me, I’ll probably turn into an unprofessional blubbering baby who is nowhere near coherent.
No way if she’s on the other end, I say, “Oh. hi.”
No, offense intended, my friends. No offense intended….
Cheers… my second grader is about to come home and distract me. THANK GOD! haha!