I’ve just sent the dratted WIP to my agent. (Did I mention I had some nightmares about this on Tuesday?) And I feel like something really heavy has dropped onto my head. Really, really heavy.
And while Elizabeth Bevarly mentioned on Squawk Radio that she’s having 12-hour long orgasms after mailing her manuscript, the only thing I feel coming is a migraine. Splendid.
And I don’t feel elated either.
I feel horrid.
Because now two people will read that dratted WIP and they will know what a fraud I am. (“Uhm-hm, Chapters 1-10 aren’t bad, that 30-page love scene in Chapters 20 and 21 is rather unusual and wonderful — but horrible things were done to the rest????”) AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!!
I’m off to eat chocolate.