So my deadlines for freelance writing and copy editing have passed. I met the deadlines and could then breathe a heavy sigh of relief, generally pleased with my output, my ability to correct the work of others as well as my own.
But now there are no immediate turnaround dates looming over my head -- no reference books to confer with, no style sheets to keep, no red pencils to sharpen or Post-its to write on. There are no word counts to try and adhere to, no reworking of sentences "just one more time," no accompanying letters to write to the editor.
Zip, nada, "kloom"!
And you know what, folks? I feel at somewhat of a loss. I don't quite know what to do with myself with this "free time." Of course, I have a family to look after, and I do, but after they've gone to bed, for once I, too, can go to bed. I don't have to lay out manuscript pages on the dining room table in just the right order, I don't have to lug out Webster's and Chicago Manual of Style from their places on an upstairs shelf, I don't have to put on my thinking cap, which I already discarded when I walked in the door after work!
I do have a story that I've been asked to write -- and I promised that I could only TRY to do so. Not because I don't have the time, but because I haven't written a short story since my teens probably. And believe me, that's quite a number of years ago! So I have the brilliant idea that's been given the green light; it's now just a matter of executing it, playing with the idea, shaping it and reshaping it till it feels just right.
So why am I addressing my blog instead of confronting head-on the short story, "The Face in the Mirror"?
