Warning: A word from my masculine alter ego

So! I have finished revising... for the moment. And, let me tell you, EVERYONE in the world should have the pleasure of wrapping up revisions, including (but not limited to) neurosurgeons, hall monitors, our world leaders and ALL their accountants. It’s TOTALLY orgasmic, such an AAAHHH feeling when you make that final change and reread it for the very last time and know that, by God, you’ve hit the mark on the head! It was fucking bleeding, for Chrissakes!!

But as soon as I reached the apogee, I had to kick the bitch to the curb so I could sleep for a few days. She wore me OUT. I needed some ME time, you know? Unfortunately, there were offices to show up at, and kids to attend to, and so I didn't really sleep any more than usual. But believe you me, I COULD have slept for two days. I'm relaxed to the point of delirium. And I'd like to bum a cigarette from you, if only I smoked. Although I CAN reward myself with a glass of Chardonnay.... And will. But no cuddling. Definitely no cuddling.

Truth be told, I'm still not completely satisfied. I'm already anticipating the withdrawals that should start any day now. I’ll be staring at the phone, pacing around all, “Why hasn’t she called?? It’s been a WEEK! My God, doesn’t she know I NEED her??” You see, I’m not really CONVINCED that I’m done revising. If I knew this novel was leaving me for good, I’d get attitude about it… “GOOD… DON’T come back… I was tired of you ANYWAY!” But she’s not done with me. She's NEVER quite done with me. She’ll be back. She ALWAYS comes back.

No big deal… A couple more nights of fun to look forward to later, right??? I know. I know. If you are a fledgling novel, you need to be RUNNING when I even LOOK in your general direction. Lordy knows I will use and abuse you to my wicked black heart's content.