- Revise one middle-grade manuscript from third to first (at the suggestion of a very nice Random House editor who was absolutely right)
- Revise one YA thriller contracted for Putnam from first to third (even though the editor bought it one-third written in third, he was right that it needed to be recast in first). Plus I had to delete chunks, add in scenes, and think of plausible reasons that my MC would witness one scene.
- Write two books reviews.
- Write one essay on the writing life.
At the time, I compared it to eating an elephant. I knew I just had to do it one bite at a time.
Well, now everything is done except for writing the review of The Keep (Jennifer Egan - great book for a writer to read, by the way, very playful).
I just shipped my revamped YA out today.
I should feel ecstatic. Instead I feel empty and at loose ends.
I always fantasize about having more free time. I currently work full time, exercise pretty much every day (can we say OCD, anyone?), and have a kid and a spouse who need my time, too. I have a stack of books I mean to read.
Instead, it just feels - empty.