It’s Friday night. (Well, for me. For you it’s probably Monday. Sorry ’bout that.) There are things to do on Friday night that don’t involve sitting at a computer in my sweats.
But I’m in the middle of revisions. Big revisions. Necessary revisions. Brilliant revisions. Revisions that I’m ready to throw into the street and run over with my car. Repeatedly.
Yes, I just used an adverb. I’m testy. Don’t mess with me.
But, seriously, have you been there? I’m just… over my manuscript right now. And it’s horrible of me. I should be grateful and counting my blessings. I’ve got a darling of an editor and a publisher. (Oh, you didn’t know? Well, I’ll make an official annoucement soon. Just not yet.) I’m at that place all aspiring writers have wet dreams about.
But I’ve read this thing Fifty Million Damn Times now. At this point I’m just bored. The story’s soooooo been done. The author’s voice is starting to get on my nerves.;)
The dream’s become damn annoying. OK, I know I’ll fall in love all over again eventually, right? And I’m just being terrible for complaining? I know, I know. But I AM bored with it.
Ever been there? What did you do?