The woes of a psychotic writer deep in edits

No, this is not a deep post. I'm already drowning in crap, thank you very much, I don't need more of it. Did I mention That Baby made disgusting poop in her pants and I had to clean it-again-today? Why can't she do it to her father? Geez.

I have to get this chapter edited for critique, so you get to experience my process with me. Have I whined yet about how much I hate editing?

I just had to delete my favorite line in this chapter. It followed a HUMONGOID backstory dump, and I chose to delete the BS dump, which means the really awesome line has no place in context. Hey, I just made a funny. A good way to remind myself to avoid backstory dumps... they're BS dumps. Tee Hee.

(You are aware I didn't go to bed until 5 am this morning, right?)

Anyway, my heroine is developing a headache, and I'm getting a sympathy headache for her. Poor little thing. I feel for her. I'm trying to make her less b*tchy, but frankly, the headache is making me feel a little b*tchy, so I'm more inclined to give her some sharper claws.

I'm ashamed to say, I picked out the glaring things on paper, didn't really focus as much on the rewrite as I'd have liked, but two things are going on. One, I shared what I wrote last night with someone else, and God decided to convict her of some things she needs to talk about. And two, as we chatted, God pointed out a few more things to add to The Book. (Heather, we need a word counter for The Book-19K out of 100K). Besides, isn't the point of going to critique that they're going to rip it to shreds. Have I mentioned that I'm bringing one of the books I'm terrified to let others read?

(Did I mention I'm not real amused with God right now? It's called sleep, Lord. Even you get a day of rest every week. Which, may I point out, I have not had in MONTHS? Insert bad words)

Do you all find it funny that I keep giving Heather tasks on my blog? I'm worried I sound b*tchy, but I don't really mean it in that way. I'm just being random and saying it when I think of it. Besides, I'm hoping you all will see what a great assistant she is and hire her. I have ulterior motives.

Yes it is all about ME. Let's all sing... memememememememe.... MEMEMEMEMEEMEMEME...

Which is what God is kicking my butt about right now. My main fear in writing The Book is how specific people are going to react to it. I need to share this story, but I'm so afraid of the rejection of some very specific people that may come as a result. I want to help people, I have stories that I believe will help people, and I'm so consumed with the Almighty Me that I can't seem to bring myself to do it.

Memememememememememememememememememememe

Low self esteem? Me? Pshaw! Supposedly it controls me, and yet... memememememememe

Hey, there's a book in there. People with low self esteem=self absorbed jerks. Or is that just me? Literally.

I almost wish I had a webcam, because you all would see me sitting here totally laughing hysterically. At myself. At life. At God. However, that would mean you'd see my messy house, my hair haphazardly piled on top of my head as I sit here in jammies, wrapped in my blankie. And as we know, I'm much too self conscious to allow that.

MEMEMEMEMEMEMEME

Have I mentioned in this post that I am, once again, listening to Todd Agnew? I tried Sonic Flood for a while-they totally suck. (I am SO kidding. I usually love them-which is why I tried to listen to them). I can't even bring myself to listen to U2. I admit it, I'm a freak. I go on music binges and that's the only thing that will satisfy me. Sort of like me and food. I really want a quesadilla right now, but I've been in hermit mode and haven't been back to the groc since I realized that the brand new package That Man brought home was mostly moldy. Gross. And so, because I can't have a quesadilla right now, I won't eat anything.

I am still pissed off about cutting that one line. But I worked for an hour, trying to fit it in and make it work, and just really doesn't work anymore.