On the edge

Dangerously close to another meltdown this morning. Everything became too much. Yes, I know what you are thinking, some of you have spoken to me as recently as yesterday and I would have said I was feeling really good. I am still desperately struggling with the face-to-face stuff. I do feel so much better putting on a happy face. I do try to convince even myself that all is good.

And then I think, am I just a drama queen? Aren't these all just first world problems? That everyone has.

I had a bit of a moment this morning. I was just recovering from a conversation with HM about insane work choices and realised something had to give. I simply cannot keep working day and night (and I mean till 2am and later) and missing out on all the good family stuff. Some nights HM has been asleep for six hours before I even get into bed. I cannot remember the last time I sat in the loungeroom at night without my lap top. I am either too tired to or I am working.

And I am a boring mum at the moment. Sometimes the only quality time they are getting with me is the bedtime story extravaganza. Which could soon to be made into a movie I might add.

So after my almost-crash, I buckled down to work this morning and lo and behold, an email from the publisher. Turns out there were a few things she forgot to mention about the books that I am currently writing. It would appear that the series has "evolved" since we signed the contract some months ago. Apparently the books I am writing are not even going to be BOOKS (!). They are going to be INTERACTIVE WORKSHEETS. This "evolution" of theirs seems to have happened sometime over the weekend. What goes on in that place?

Now I won't bore you with the details but the ramifications for this lack of  CRUCIAL information in the publishing brief are bigger than Ben Hur. Essentially, almost everything I've written so far cannot be used. MONTHS of work now rendered useless. Naturally, I remained extremely calm upon reading this news. I wrote a nice reassuring, carefully worded, soothing email expressing that I did not mind at all that everything I've done so far has to be binned. I did not feel at all put out that I have spent so many nights ignoring my family. I mentioned that I was more than keen to redo everything and start again following their impossibly limited, new interactive format that evolved since last FRIDAY. I also pointed out that I was not fazed in the slightest at having to forward on far, far, far more interesting and highly lucrative projects to my other colleagues, so as to fully focus on these BOOKS that aren't going to be books. Yes, that's what I did.

Just kidding. Of course that's not what I did, at all.

What really happened is that I fired off one of my horror angry-bird emails again. And I do have to say, my publisher--god bless--who I have never met face-to-face, is either VERY USED TO THIS KIND OF ABUSE or she is on serious happy drugs and whatever they are I would like some. She never writes anything remotely unpleasant back. She just goes with it and actually agrees with me. She even said, she will pay me for the book that is going in the proverbial bin. And that I do not have to rewrite it. I can just move onto the next books and she will give it to an editor who will "FIX IT" for me.

Isn't that nice.

So I'm stopping now. I think my posts are far too long anyway. And I just wanted to end on a happy note. Also, just checking, who of you are actually reading all the way to the bottom? I want a show of hands. No, I want a comment. Anything to prove that you read this far. I'm off for a walk in the sunshine.

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