Tuesday, October 4, 2011


Was today. It came and I pressed send. Two things happen to me when I send in a manuscript. First all those things I thought I had to get done (which are truly a way for me to avoid writing) just don't seem all that important. Second, I get a melancholy feeling. I believe the melancholy stems from the book being 'finished' (a book is never ever really finished--an author simply has a deadline to stop working on a manuscript) and the book is now out of my hands. The book is sent away to be judged and evaluated and ripped apart--to return with lengthy editorial letters.

Well, it's finished for today. Tomorrow--well tomorrow I begin revising another project.



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