So I'm working on a manuscript I've been nursing a few years. Just recently I grasped a major plot and structure change. What commenced was a frantic urge to get to my computer to tackle the ideas. I became irritated, grumpy, and driven. Other activities and people were a test in patience. (Sorry, you guys.)
This morning I landed on the last page, all changes poured from head onto the screen. Like separating the yolk and white with eggshells. Slippery, bloopy stuff.
And now there's peace again. I can do rgz work, clean, chat with friends. I'm still revising. But there's not the urgency that I had before. What I have is a dead, plucked, uncooked, floppy chicken. However, it's not going anywhere.
These are my thoughts. If you hit me at the egg separating moment, please accept my apologies. I'll be dancing with the floppy chicken soon enough and hoping people will join my conga line.
Here's to good friends and family who tolerate revising writers! Love ya! Smack!
1 comment:
"What I have is a dead, plucked, uncooked, floppy chicken."
Ha!
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