A slap on the wrist and a fist pump

Haven't blogged. Wrist slap. BUT. I've been working like a crazy sucker on line edits. Which are now done. Fist pump. Barf bag.

I've written queries and outlines and synopses and sent them into the wild and bitten nails as agents read chapters and partials and fulls. Terror meter score = 6

I've made revisions for agents, sent them back, prayed that they'd like them. Terror meter score = 7

I've been on sub to major publishers. Terror meter score = 8

I've made revisions for an amazing editor who totally loves my book and wants it to be the best it can possibly be and who is completely on my side. Terror meter score = 7  (Drop in terror because my editor is so fantastic and gorgeous, it wasn't as scary as I'd anticipated)

And then there's line edits....

They done.  They're over.  The manucript of THE DARK LIGHT is wending its way through the hallowed halls of Simon & Schuster and into the hands of a copy editor. Beyond copy edits, there may be a few changes--words here and there, the odd sentence deemed awkward and reworked, etc. Other than that, the heavy lifting part of the creative process is over.  Everything else is straightening furniture, dusting down the sideboard, vacuuming the rug so that it's squeaky clean, and making sure the number plate on the front door is hanging straight.

That's it.  No more new chapters, new characters, no 'I can change this later'. There is no later.

Terror meter score = 11

Love it!