May I have an umbrella in that?

So much for waiting a month to begin editing. I managed to go about 48 hours before diving in. (Methinks my addiction is showing.)

The work had gone well. I made amazing strides tightening prose with a finely-tuned wrench, slashing overwriting with new-found skill.

And then came section seven -- the end bit to chapter one. What a *&#$%* dreadful piece of writing it is. I hate it. What was I thinking?

And so, I procrastinate catching up on my blog reading, paying bills, writing this entry because it's too early to drink. And that is what is required. A vat of alcohol to generate creative brain cells, to make me feel brilliant, perhaps to drown myself in.

Of course, the fact that I submitted my application for the grant yesterday has nothing to do with my bout of insecurity today. Nothing at all. The fact that I held on to the damn thing for weeks, repeatedly rewriting sample pages and submitting only when deadline was upon me is no indication of lack of confidence. Not at all.

Hmmmm. Seven minutes to noon.

Colleen