*Tap tap*

This thing on?

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Well, it won’t be the first time I’ve talked to myself and enjoyed it, so I shall continue. It has been many moons since I have committed bloggery. I moved countries and just wasn’t feeling it. With all my first-world problems, I went full Snow.giphy-4

Especially the coffee, but American coffee is a whole other blog in a whole other I-don’t-even-like-coffee-that-much-but-I want-my-sludge-to-taste-remotely-like-it, tirade. Caffeine is good, America. Guns bad, coffee good.

Anyhoo, suffice to say, it took a while to settle. But in just over two weeks, we’ve got a place to live, bank accounts, a general sense that we’re not in Kansas anymore, and bought a pretty little Mini Cooper 4WD so I won’t die in the snow, come winter.

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Time to open up that laptop, find myself a little spot in the corner of the AirBnB that is currently home, and find out what one or two minor things my manuscript needs in order to become an instant bestseller.

Yes, dear invisible friends I’m talking to inside my head. I am going to read through the editorial report I received the day before flying out of Australia. I’m totes ready for it. I mean seriously, what could a professional editor have to say about what is clearly a piece of writing brilliance? Poor girl probably feels bad I’m paying her at all.

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Open document. Bring it on.

Righto.

Well, that’s quite a lot of notes.

I didn’t realise you could fit quite so many comments into a word document.

I think there is a record up for grabs here, how many times  I can be told to ‘show don’t tell’

Look at all those mark-ups.

All those spelling errors.

And mark-ups.

So many mark-ups.

Wait, hang on. Sorry, Bill Murray is trying to tell me something, give me a minute. What’s that Bill?

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Why yes, yes I do. Thanks for your input.

Remain calm. Totally calm. Do not fling laptop in stranger’s house. Remain totally calm. So it turns out you can’t write for shit. That’s okay. Dreams are overrated. As is self-esteem.

No one needs either of those stupid-ass things.

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Sweet mother of god, failure burns! It stings my eyes. These aren’t tears, they are stinging beads of faily-fail-fail juice running down my face. Stop looking at me!

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I so don’t got this.

In fairness, I was warned by fellow writing buddies, editing is gonna sting like a mofo. They weren’t friggin kidding.  I can’t even see my keyboard anymore the fail-fail juice is flowing so bad…gjomb…ghoohoa…

Fellow writing buds also said, “read it, put it away, feel sorry for yourself, and then give it a few days.” Okay. Sure, yep. No worries.

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Now what? I ain’t opening that thing again. No god damn way. Besides, the fail-fail juice short circuited my keyboard. Can’t type A or E, or more importantly, download gifs.  No point going on. There are other dreams anyway, Walmart’s got a sale on at the moment. I’m sure there’s something there I’m good at.

Putting words together is totes overrated.

…But I really like putting words together. It’s my precious……I wants it….

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And now I’ve spilled my wine. It can’t get any worse. Screw you Bill Murray.  I gotta go back to mark-up hell and this time I’m wearing goggles. I want to see what I paid for. Maybe those notes didn’t actually say “give up you’re useless”, in hindsight it might have been more like “this is on the right track for submission” and that my fight scenes were awesome and it was a “unique story.”

Screw you hindsight, you’re ugly. Now shove over. Pass me a hairdryer, need to dry out this keyboard.

Spent all my money on editing, can’t afford a new one.