I turned in the revised edition of FULLY INVOLVED at 3:09am, just 4 hours before the extended extended deadline.
Thank. You. God.
And my husband says even louder, THANK. YOU. GOD.
Or what he really said when I collapsed into bed in the wee hours was, “I’m soooo happy for you.” And I replied, “Ha. You’re soooo happy for you.” Because now he won’t have to deal with the “walking tornado of emotions” that was his wife. (Yes, that is another direct quote from him.)
It’s kind of funny, really…when you pick up a book to read at the bookstore or the library, you never really think what’s behind that book, what the author went through to get it to book form. Sure, lots of sweat and hard work. But judging by not just my own experience but also that of each of the writers I’m friends with, there was probably so much more.
There was likely a breakdown at some point. At least one.
There was probably overwhelming frustration that drove the author to rant and rave like some kind of Neanderthal whose favorite club was stolen by a rogue wooly mammoth.
There was probably the complete utter belief that he or she simply could not pull it off.
And there was more than certainly a gigantic endorphin rush the second the author typed THE END. Some fist pumps into the air with the words “I did it!” Some twirls and spins around the house, some loud music, some bad dancing and hysterical laughing.
And then…a very long nap.
My bed is calling me…