Yeah. Suddenly I'm teaching at the University of Georgia? Filling in for a professor on medical leave and commuting 1 1/2 hours three days a week. Thing is, when opportunities come knocking, they don't tend to check your schedule first.
And so the progress on novel edits came to a car crunching, gut wrenching halt. I told myself 'yeah, well, my agent and I knew the proposed deadline was probably not doable when we set it.' But then the other night my hubbie says, 'you're twelve days late on your deadline.' (We were discussing something that would potentially have even more of an impact on my schedule, so it was pertinent.)
Thing is, I'm a punctual person. I always show up on time (then wait for others to arrive) and I never miss a deadline. Until now. I don't care how ridiculous the deadline was, I'm now late and that bugs me. Big time.
Looking at it that way makes me change how I do things. I'm kickin' it up a notch. I'm attacking the edits. I WILL have this done asap.
Of course, it must be good. So for every three pages forward, I go five back to double check things, tweak language, make sure all threads remain consistent.
Who knew this would be so hard? Who knew I'd have to kick my butt so much to get it done? Um, writers. Writers know this. And to remain a writer, I must WORK.
