Dear Diary,
I have taken to talking to my cat again. Whilst my son slumbers and I work late into the night the big orange beast is the only company I have, and in my sleep-deprived delirium I might have dreamed up his responses. I have no one to blame but myself, I know.
I am the one who decided I wanted the manuscript to go out to Beta readers Monday morning.
I am the one who scheduled a 48 hour timetable over the weekend to take the first pass at the manuscript.
Well, it wasn’t the first pass. Technically speaking that was the 4th. It just happened to be the first read-through since deciding to embark on the self-publishing journey.
I am also the one who spent a disgraceful amount of time hunting through pre-made cover art. I still haven’t found the right one and am resigning myself to the idea that I’m going to have to commission someone.
My cat insists I should save my money for soft food. He is quite peeved at me for not having purchased any in over a month. But he’s gotten a trifle pudgy so I’ve limited him to hard food until Thanksgiving or Christmas.
I am slightly concerned that he might take matters into his own hands and either bite my feet in protest or opt to rage-vomit. (He does this whenever I leave for the weekend to let me know his displeasure.)
On a good note, he is supportive of the self-publishing idea. I know because he sits on the back of my chair and purrs, creating a pleasant vibration for me while I work. It’s like a mini-massage thing only fuzzy and better. I fully believe that his presence helped me get through that 48 read-through period and, while some of the emails to my Beta readers might not have made a lot of sense, at least they got out in time.
I’ll score this as a win.