So I hired an editor. I even thought I was hot stuff when I sent out the check today. Then I told her how she'd have the payment by Tuesday and she replied with 'great! hope you put a hard copy of the ms in there too!' I stared at those cheery words for a long time. Any and all desire to eat the slice of cake I'd been looking forward to celebrating with disappeared. I was left with a horrible pit where cake-hunger had been.
Guess who made the mistake of reading an important email at 5AM. I have a horrible sleep cycle. It's very unhealthy but I've always thought I manage just fine on a handful of hours of sleep every night/morning. Until now. My tired eyes glossed right over the words 'include full hard copy of mss.' That's right. Me.
So finally, after almost half an hour of staring out the window in self-loathing, I managed to reply. I apologized like I'd personally vandalized her home, shaved her dog, and offended her mother all at the same time before hurling all over her best shoes. So embarrassed. So unprofessional. So much for getting things off on a good foot.
As if that wasn't bad enough, tomorrow's Sunday. No mail. I will be camping out in front of the post office until Monday morning, clinging to my manuscript and sobbing salty tears of a shameful writer. That is, of course, if I don't cave and buy a plane ticket to New York City so I can deliver it to her door myself tomorrow.
In my defense: I am exhausted. This last week has been awful. I've been hosting guests from out of town, working extra shifts, and nursing a fever. No excuses though. It was a very, very unprofessional for someone who wants to be a writer and I will return to my corner now to wallow in my shame.
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