Take a deep breath. Do you smell that?
Coffee. With a dollop of whip cream, and hopefully, a dash of inspiration.
I'm settled at Barnes & Noble with my white chocolate mocha, ready to make the final push on my novella. My deadline is tomorrow - and I'm a little ashamed. I have NEVER been this close to a deadline before. Ask my editor, I'm usually the girl who turns her material in weeks, sometimes even months, early. But this novella has been a challenge, and with life's drama interfering, I've just cut it close.
I don't like asking for extensions. I don't want to be the girl who emails her editor and says "hey, uh, my husband lost his job, we're approaching 'dead-broke' at rapid speed, my mother in law was just moved to a nursing home here in town where she's still not doing well, and we're going back and forth out to her house 2 hours away trying to get her estate settled, and oh yeah by the way, I have an 18 month old who wants to play dollhouse 24/7 WITH Mama, so...can I have more time, please?"
That's just not me, however justified it might be. I don't like excuses. I committed to this deadline, even though the date given was not my suggestion, and I like to keep my word and my promises.
So here I sit, under a giant mural of Dickinson, Shaw, Hardy, Faulkner and Eliot (talk about giants!) and making my final caffeinated push to keeping my word. Maybe staring at this mural will inspire me, even though Dickinson does look sort of depressed. I guess that was her life though. Maybe I should focus on the happier writers...