I’m sitting in a completely dark room wrapped in my enormous fuzzy blue bathrobe. I’m like a Smurf on steroids. I love this bathrobe because A) It’s warm; and B) When I take it off, I feel like an instantaneous AFTER picture. Before: enormous Smurf that is slightly frightening. After: much svelter wearer of yoga pants, only frightening if I don’t have coffee and/or am having a bad hair day.
It’s 5:30 on a Sunday. Coffee is burbling and it’s too dark in my office to see my hair. (I’m trying not to wake up my kids.)
I got maybe four hours of sleep last night. Part of it is because my son had an asthma/coughing fit during the night and I stayed up with him, moved him to the downstairs couch, comforted him. (Got bonus points for good momming.)
The other reason I’ve been up is because I had a great day at the GRRWG conference yesterday and I keep turning it over in my mind, the way you sometimes revisit good kissing in your mind. (Or is that just me?) Honestly, after that whole book fair experience, I didn’t even want to go to the conference. I’d committed to presenting on branding and sitting on a panel on query writing, so I had to follow through.
I’m so glad I did. One minute I’m about to give up on everything, the next I’m presenting material and talking with an agent who actually likes the kind of thing I write: romantic comedies. I didn’t know there were any more agents out there who’d even consider it.
Presenting was fun too. I like talking about…stuff. I like teaching. And I felt pretty confident and smooth, and since I wasn’t wearing my Smurf outfit, I also felt relatively skinny. All bonus things.
This is how life goes. One week, you’re in the dumps. The next, you’re feeling pretty good.
Oh sheesh. I hope I’m not bipolar.
Now that I have that thought to obsess over, I can start my day.