All week, I have been luxuriating in edits on my novel, diving back into the story-world and losing myself for hours at a time. Seriously, one day I edited for 11 hours and still didn't want to go to bed b/c I wanted to keep going! It's like delicious magic time, especially compared to writing shitty academic papers!
But alas, edits are done, new draft turned in to Agent Dude. And yeah, that paper that I've been putting off and already got an extension on? It's due Monday. I should be writing it right now. As we speak. But what fun would that be?
I'm still giddy with fiction world, and wanting that future to work out so badly my stomach curls up just thinking about. That's what I want to be doing with all my time. Being a writer was always Plan A, but I always thought it a ridiculous pipedream b/c I know how hard it is to make it as a writer, even to get published. So it was on to Plan B--getting my Master's and Doctorate and teaching. But now that Plan A is a possibility suddenly, it's ALL I WANT. So forcing myself to still keep working on Plan B stuff--every hour spent and page written is grueling and feels IMPOSSIBLE!!! How did I ever make myself do this before????
All right, whiny rant over. Agent Dude sounded excited about the changes I'd made on the book, but he thinks it might be best to wait until January to start submitting to editors at publishing houses b/c people are already checked out for the holidays. I'm glad it's him and not me having to make these decisions, because I have the patience of a three year old.