Things My Editors Don't See
It's been a while since I've posted here. Life hasn't been easy but I’ve also been busy with writing. Even though most of the writing I’ve been doing since my last post has been poetry and songs, I’ve dabbled here and there with revising my novel per editor’s specs and reading books to write reviews for. I’ve also been interviewing people for my haunted house article series and hunting down a publisher for A: My deaf parenting book and B: My two children’s books. So far I’ve had a bit of luck in that department, and one publisher is located close to me! Pretty cool.
I offer the following as an attempt to make light of the days of frustrations I’ve had to cope with in my writing life...
Things My Editors Don’t See
* The look of shock on my face when they write back saying, “Great article, Dawn!” I can only sit there and think, “You’re kidding, right?”
* Books being angrily tossed aside or angrily gripped as I grumble stuff like “Didn’t anybody EDIT this thing??” or “I can’t BELIEVE this got published” as I try to figure out how to write a “nice” review for them.
* My fist angrily pounding the desk as, once again, a source has failed to reply or answer the phone. (I guess they’ve forgotten that I have a DEADLINE to meet!)
* My weak, half-hearted thumbs-up over an acceptance when all I want to do is crawl into a corner and disappear from the world.
* Me sitting in my PJ’s at 11 a.m. as I furiously type an interview or article due.
* The computer being threatened with the hammer or being tossed out the window if it keeps up the attitude problem. (Let ME format this article, okay?? Pretty please??)
* My forehead-slap over a request to once again cut an article in half or rewrite something. I’ve gotten this request so many times, I’ve developed a system.
* My astronomical phone bill for long-distance calls made all in the name of an interview. (Oh, for the days of Internet relay!!)
* My daughter standing next to me, screaming and pulling at my arm, hoping this will get me to stop writing and start playing with her. (And even the “5 more minutes” promise I dole out to her, oh, every 5 minutes.)
* The pull-switch on the desk lamp getting knocked silly as I stumble over what to write next or what a word is for something. (And, yes, I WAS batting at the thing just now before I wrote this.)
* The chair-aerobics as I leap up every 5-or-so-minutes to get my daughter something to eat, vacuum the floor, do the dishes, let the dog out, etc., in between working on articles.
* Papers scattered across my bed with hi-lighted passages and marginal notes as I pore over what goes where. (For some reason, I like lying on my stomach on my bed to do the off-computer work.)
* Playing Solitaire or chatting online when I have to write an article due. Today.
* My fantasies of writing books that bring royalties of millions of dollars instead of the peanut-paying work I do now. (Er, not that I’m COMPLAINING about the pay! Really.) (Seriously.) ... (I LOVE YOU GUYS!!!!)
* Me running to the mailbox, hoping a check is inside.
* Me screaming like a maniac and angrily shaking the mailbox when there is NO check inside.
* Slipping a source a bill for “privileged” information.
OK, that last one was a joke. But, you get the idea.