I woke up at 7:00 this morning, notable because it was 7:00 PST (6:00 my time), I was on vacation and had attended a delightful party until late in the night. Those of you who know me know that I am not a morning person. I'm barely an early afternoon person, but I was inexplicably struck with the need to be productive. Overwhelmed by it. Monsignor Spouse and I cranked out some touristy things, shopped, became persons of interest to the security forces of the Seattle Port Authority (I swear, I was just taking pictures of the palletized loads of fresh produce going onto the cruiseliner, not scoping it with nefarious deeds in mind. The photos didn't turn out too good, but believe me when I say it takes a sh*tload of onions to fuel a cruise ship.), and had good coffee and great piroshkis.
All this did not satisfy my need to be productive, nor did hiking about in 90 degree weather (in Seattle, of all places!) sap my energy. Because, my dears, it is revision time. I received extensive notes from my agent a couple of weeks ago, followed by WIP paralysis. I've written a short story and a freaking novella in the last few weeks, but every time I sit down to work on the revisions *snap* I short-circuit. Look, I'm even blogging to avoid revisions. Bad writer, no cookie.
But it's time. I can feel that the winds have changed. I have been thinking for the last couple weeks, non-systematically working through the list which, upon reading, was instantaneously burned into my brain. So, to all those people who thought a lobotomy was the reason for the vacuous expression I've been wearing and the way I haven't been acknowledging you when you're standing right in front of me, sorry. But, you see, I was thinking. And the thoughts have coalesced and are now pushing. My hands have begun to twitch with the need to get these thoughts out. So, it begins. Wish me luck.