I am a perfectionist.
I can own that. I can also get around it. I’ve given myself a deadline.
Well, actually, I’m accepting someone else’s deadline. I’m trying to get my manuscript pulled together in time for HarperVoyager‘s open submission window. Yep. That deadline is coming up quickly.
As further push, I’ve also added my entry to Writer Therapy’s First Page Contest. (That deadline is this Saturday, FYI).
In spite of my wedding being 38 short days away, I skip the paper-flower-making and revise.
Yesterday, I was accidentally a half hour late for work because I squeezed in some revisions over breakfast. My life is moving out of the way to make way for this final push. I’ve learned that as I reach the climax, the building tension in the story is building tension in my mind.
“Are we there yet?”
I want to be done with this story. It’s ready. It’s done.
It is time.