Fingernail biting time

I should dig out the hot pepper sauce. Shoot, I should dig out the Mace and spray my fingernails one good time.

I am about to submit.

To a new editor.

A new editor who, gulp, has never read my work before.

Who, double-gulp, doesn't know me from Adam's housecat.

All those pre-pubbed neuroses are coming back to me. What if she doesn't like my writing? What if she doesn't like my idea? What if, triple-gulp, she doesn't even like the font I'm using? Should I use Courier? Times New Roman?

And then I slap myself.

OK, it didn't take, so I slap myself again.

I've sold four books. They've gotten good reviews. I have fan mail. I even have fan mail from across the big pond, fan mail that someone actually used international postage to mail it to me. And dadgummit, I can fold fitted sheets.*

I can do this.

But my nails may not ever be the same. :-)

*Once I learned how to fold fitted sheets, it's been my mantra whenever I'm faced with something that seems impossible, because, let's face it, fitted sheets seemed pretty impossible for 32 years of my life.