Gemma waits patiently for Michael to return with an early dinner. Little does she know that none of it’s for her.
The other day I got a really great review posted on Amazon from writer Peter Clothier. I was going to quote some parts of it, which I will for promotion sake, but for the love of god and the sake of my blog, I had to post it here in full:
What on Earth? Time keeps ticking. I keep losing it. My deadlines are fast approaching and my “ToDo” list stays relatively the same: around 25 things I have to do (right away!). Every time I turn around, I forget that I have to add something. At least I’m set up to work on the last of the drawings now. This table was an absolute catastrophe yesterday. Now it’s all better.
I got the new and improved, corrected perfect-bound proof and there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s perfect! Finally! Praise Moses and the sky! I can hardly believe it.
This is the crux of my anxiety. I’ve been hurrying up and waiting for too long. It’s been putting me into such a lousy mental state, it ain’t no bag of clowns. I wanted to title this entry, Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Which would better capture how I really feel. Because, while the world passes me by, I’m left here, sitting on my hands looking like a coward, and perhaps I am. Or, at least I have been until now. What do I mean by that? Well, brace yourself, because this is the bomb before the book.
