Noticing that it was after 10 a.m. and I hadn't done anything productive with my writing (which has been the case for days now) I figured I'd better get my rear in gear and, at the very least, enter some of the hard copy edits I've made.
Holy Hannah. Holy friggin' Hannah. (Although what's really going through my head is substantially more profane.)
I have notes on various copies/versions of the ms, handwritten sections to be added, and electronic edits provided by my friend Becca.
I am officially daunted.
I've now had too much coffee and my stomach is jittery and my hands are twitching and I'm looking at the mess before me with hypertrophied eyes praying for some insight on where and how to begin.
And so, I inhale and exhale with great deliberation -- a few times -- hoping the phone will ring or my stomach will stop doing somersaults or the stiffness in my neck will miraculously loosen.
What I wouldn't give for a secretary right now.
But the phone isn't ringing and my stomach is still doing the jive and my neck is pulling the muscles from between my shoulder blades to those bony knobs at the base of my skull. There's nothing for it, but to begin.
And so, I dive.
Wish me luck.
Colleen
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