Shoot. I don’t even know.
I just remember it was June last time I looked at the calendar, and now it’s, like, Christmas or something.
I’ve been revising and editing and tweaking and obsessing with more fervor than Gollum in the bowels of the whatever those mountains are called where the goblins live.
AS ONE DOES.
Here’s the thing, I have trouble ramping it up to get into obsesso-writer mode but then an equally hard time dialing it back down again when I’m done. I spent a month concentrating my laser beam eyes on something and now can’t switch back again to my normal, diffuse way of approaching life. At the moment, I see every pore on every face I look at. You know what I’m sayin’?
Worse, I had this, “I just finished something and want to blow off some steam!” moment, but I sent my edits off midday Monday, and that is apparently NOT a good time to be in a party mood. Would you believe I couldn’t get any enthusiasm whatsoever for my streaking idea? Sheesh. Bunch a buzzkills, you people are.
OK, so naturally, I’m using up my excess writing energy by amusing myself. Specifically, I’m practicing writing cover/book jacket blurbs again. I did this once before, but that was way back when.
I have several author-friends who are nervous about approaching established writers they admire for blurbs for their upcoming releases, but it’s got to be just as nerve-wracking to figure out the right thing to say in said blurb. Since someday someone may want a blurb from me, I thought I’d show what mad blurbing skillz I have.
Here are a few samples so you know what to expect if you should ever ask me for a blurb:
“Do you have an @ss? Do you have a name? Good. Cuz this book is about to kick the first and take the second.”
“Are you seriously thinking of not buying this book? Like, seriously? I don’t even. *stares in disbelief as if at the most horrific example of foolishness ever seen in human history* HONESTLY. Just . . . don’t call or text or poke or anything me ever again. I mean it.”
“I started crying while reading the opening sentence of this novel, and I did not stop until I closed the book again. If you like having your heart utterly cracked in half like a broken coconut, if you enjoy riding a raft upon a torrent of your own tears, if you want to experience being emotionally eviscerated by prose so that you feel like you just watched a family of bunnies get hit by a train, then you MUST buy this book!”
“You know that expression, ROTFLMAO? I’m serious. I spent an entire day looking for my A after all the R on the F I did while reading this hilarious book.”
“Do you like lush, literary writing? This book is the LUSHEST. I think she used every single word in the English language. Even stuff like ‘tumid’ and ‘cynosure.’ Do you have any clue what those words mean? ME NEITHER. You are not going to get through a single page of this book without consulting a dictionary. Actually, I’m not even sure this was written in English now that I think about it. Does English have umlauts over consonants like that? See what I’m saying? LUSH.”
“I totally do not want to give away the ending but let me just say, it rocked my ever-livin’ socks off. Which sucks because now I can’t find the mates to most of my socks. So. Yeah. Buy some extra socks before you read the last fifty pages of this book ‘cause when you find out that the sister did it, you are NOT gonna see that coming.”
And just what are y’all doing to amuse yourselves this week?