The Hottie 2 edit notes are in. I'm not a YA rookie anymore. I'm not blundering around, stupefied that I'm restricted to a single profanity and not allowed any dick jokes. I've been through this before. I know what to expect. And yet...
The first reaction is to ignore the fulsome praise aimed at the latest draft and focus on the criticisms. The next is to blow a gasket and loudly question, "Did she even read this? How can she not get this part? IT"S SO OBVIOUS!"
Then the bluster evaporates and the whining begins. "It's me. I'm no good. I was just fooling myself. I'm no writer.I'm a sham and travesty. I should send back the advance. No, wait, I can't, I used it to buy a pair of shoelaces and pack of Slim Jims."
Then the icy hand of fear takes hold. "I can't do this. It's too much work. I've constructed an intricate house of cards here. Change one element and the whole thing comes crashing down."
Then memories of the previous draft surface. The previous draft where you went through the entire process of misery and then sat down and deleted something like seventy pages of plot you thought were precious and irremovable and which ended up not making the slightest bit of difference when removed.
The you notice the February 11 deadline and blow a gasket all over again