Won't worry about finishing the syllabus until tomorrow, which lightens up today. Reading, listening to audio book, make scrapple (escaped me yesterday). Getting impatient for POD drafts so I can circulate manuscript for feedback -- have this idea I should send all four out at once so they might come back together. False premise.
Be in this part of the process so many times over so many years that I find myself curiously waiting for the postpartum bomb of brief depression to go off. Hasn't yet. Always does, it seems, a moment when you wonder if anything you wrote is even worth a shit. Fortunately it goes away and sometimes even returns to the earlier hallucinations of genius.
Well, I need some breakfast and it can't be scrapple. Hmm.
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