What the heck is she doing here again, you might wonder. Well, it’s been an hour since I sent that manuscript off.
I fed the cats.
I killed the dust wombats that had taken over my flat.
I ate a bit of chocolate.
And by now I’m utterly convinced that I’ve written the worst story that was ever written. EVER. Even a dinosaur would have written a better story than I did! It’s got no conflict, the hero’s a dolt, the heroine a hysterical chicken. And it’ll be my fault if my poor editor drops dead with boredom when he reads that manuscript. Or perhaps he’ll just run away screaming when he sees me at the next RWA conference.
I’m off to eat more choclate….