[*post written to the dulcet tones of "We Are the World" on Sky.fm 80s*]
First off, the molehill (it seemed bigger before I crossed it): my book manuscript, for better or worse, is completely drafted (still need to write the conclusion and bits of the intro, but you get it - it's completely egg-shaped - the beef is there, folks).
I've kept the first deadline that Writing Guru/Deadline Facist set for me and I'm damn proud of that. And I think this latest chapter is pretty good (ask me tomorrow when I read over it).
Now, to the Gaping Crevasse of Doom that sits before me like a nasty troll calling me a punk-bitch and telling me to bring it on...
[*why do I hate the sound of Bob Dylan's voice?? The MAN CAN'T SING!!!*]
...I have to begin revision of the two earlier chapters. The first one is the one I fear, the one that keeps me up at night longer than my Ambien should allow. Even when the Job Market Gnomes sing lullabies and give me warm milk.
But, to the chapter. It's the one in the book that doesn't quite fit as well as it should - everyone has this, right? Right??? Thought so. I've done some conceptual work on it (talking at TD over a beer - he stared blankly and nodded - he's such a good piece of sounding cardboard...). I think I can work it in pretty well - even highly interestingly. But it will take work, big work, hard work. And I'm afraid of what I'll find on the other side.
At least it's written, though! I can work with written...I've given myself 2 full weeks on this next chapter - no traveling, nothin' - just work.
But Egg is drafted! Yay!