The comments I got were—as always—kind and loving and helpful. Realized this morning I'd never let you all know what happened.
One day I sat down in my beautiful red leather recliner and refused to let myself get up until I'd written them. I visited web sites and bulletin boards for cigar smokers and people who love to pamper themselves to get a flavor of what they talk about among themselves.
Then I mediated a moment, consciously turning loose of my reservations and my own opinions about the topics. Finally, I wrote.
Can't say it exactly flowed, but I did manage to hit the word count with every one, "pumping up the envy factor" all over the place. They were pretty over the top if you ask me, but I got it done.
The editor sent a one line response: Thank you. These are exactly what I was looking for.
I read one to Mystic Wing yesterday and he informed me I'm now officially a literary whore. Works for me. In the end, all I had to do was close my eyes and think of
8 comments:
"Literary whore" works for me.
Good for you! I'm so glad it worked out.
ONce again, you take artisitic license....
"Verbal slut" is what I called you, I think.
Hurray!!!. . . and there are worse types of whores one could be.
"Verbal slut" works for me.
Whatever works! I am so glad it worked out for you. By the way, great stategy! Now you can officially take it off your to do list and move on. YEAH!
I think Suzy might be trolling for lessons from you, Jerri ;-).
Glad it's over.
Verbal slut, literary whore, tomato, tomato, let's call the whole thing off! You're doing what you need to do to pay the bills. You're no whore/slut/tomato when it comes to REAL writing, and that's all that matters!
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