Happy happy happy happy happy happy sad


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?



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