I was happy writing my book.
I was happy when I finished my first draft.
I was happy when I finished my second draft.
And when I found an affordable editor. (all praise to the wise one)
I was more than happy when I got it back after the first sweep.
Happy to accept all of the editors suggestions.
I was very happy receiving the brushed up second edit.
So happy I made two mini blogs.
I’m no longer happy.
I may be a creative whore but performance flirting doesn’t help me get my head around this publishing malarky.
So much wading through sites to discover terminology I don’t understand and what’s with all the effin’ hoops, I mean requirements.
Better calm down, if I go any more you’ll all think I wrote a shitty novel.
Perhaps I have, perhaps I haven’t… did I say perhaps I have?