Deadlines and crazy places: a picsplosion of weird.

“When the clock reads 3:00, I don’t call it three o’clock, I call it three hundred, and I remember the Spartans. At 3:01, however, I remember what I was doing at 2:59, and I get back to it.
”  – Jarod Kintz

I’ve learned a lot about writing in general, my writing in particular, and myself in the last couple months since I got The Call from Carina. Things I never previously knew, whether because I wasn’t in a situation where I could discover it or because I never stopped and really thought about it. 

I’ve learned that my voice favors long, compound sentences, which I think was my editor’s way of telling me I talk a lot. I’ve learned that no matter what kind of scene I’m writing, there’s usually a Mumford & Sons song that works for it. I’ve learned that I can survive on little to no sleep, and I’ll come to depend heavily on caffeine to get through the day. I’ve learned that when I’m in the thick of editing, I tend to forget to do important things like eat and shower and change my clothes. I’ve learned that my husband will usually not remind me for fear of me snarling like some kind of rabid animal. But the big thing I’ve learned? Things get really, really weird when I have a deadline hanging over my hand. I mean really weird.


Fortunately, I’ve also learned that while things get a little weird and I get a whole lot bizarre, I can also pull it together and meet those deadlines without crumbling under the pressure of them, even if my sanity does. 
But bananas? They end up getting the brunt of my crazy place wrath. Seriously, bananas, deadline induced weirdness or not, you’re a bundle of lies.

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