I found my kryptonite. Yup. Really.

Monday, August 3, 2020

Today, I'm reminded of what makes me anxious. Uptight to the point of blanking out my brain. There's a lizard chirping on the bookshelf. It distracts me. The birds on the porch are squawking. W's talking online up on the porch and I can't blank out his voice.

I turn FocusAtWill to the loudest techno-racket and settle in. That helps a lot. But I'm still churning through quicksand.

My kryptonite? "Minute edits." Fiddly little things that are of crucial importance to editors. Really important. I know that.

• "Do this, not that."
• "Do it this way, not that way."
• "Make sure you have this dot here and that comma there."
• "Did you read the manual for the instructions that this person sent a long time ago. I'm almost certain we sent you instructions for that a few times already..."

I read the ongoing instructions over and over. I think, "Please just tell me what you want. Especially if it's easy and basic. Author, title in italics. City, State: Publisher, date." Or ? [Why did the date suddenly shift from the end to behind the author's name? Really?]

It's like having a fridge and water-bottle in the living room. (Before, when we got here. It made no sense to me. After, a music corner, sits below my own wild painting.)

My head is begging, please don't make me sift many general emails and websites for a simple answer. I become paralyzed by such searches and endless options. "I don't know what you want. HELP."

I'm a professional editor. I teach academic research and writing. Yet learning a new style when someone has said: "We're using this style" (which I know) before hiding minute updates in several emails ... well, it turns my brain inside out. Or maybe it just dumps my thinker under my desk?

So now you know. My heart races every time I open another email from the book editor. Here's the process so far:

• I submitted a chapter proposal two years ago. And forgot about it.
• The book was put on hold with a fluid deadline. We didn't hear about chapters or acceptance for a long time. When someone wrote, "Well, Rosemarie, aren't you writing about Margaret?" I had to ask for the acceptance email to see what I'd proposed. Out of sight. Out of mind with everything else going on.
• We got a submission deadline, so I sent in my chapter.
• Suddenly there were 2 websites to go to - one for messages and instructions, another for editing (The edit site allows comments, "but send the editor your questions at the other site.")
• Each site had specific instructions for saving work, editing, re-saving, moving forward to the next phase. They lost me right there.
• Meanwhile, I couldn't remember my password for one site when it was delayed a few months. 
• The website was being updated and repeatedly crashed.
• "Wait. Don't log in."
• "Here's the new deadline. Please do your edits this way and check ... "
• "No, wait." New instructions.
• Deadline now ... 
• "Wait. Crashed again... "(2-3X)
• "Reminder, you have to send it in or you'll miss the book entirely."

I'm crazy after it all. Brain scramble? yes. (Lord have mercy. Feels almost like writing another dissertation.)

I do my best with the latest instructions. I drink a whole lot of tea. And mark up a page in my journal to tilt myself upright.

Then I call W for help. He sits beside me after he prints out the latest instructions, and walks me though. He's the detail guy who can follow a manual A, a(a) a(b), a1, a2, // B, b1, b2, b(a), b(b)// C, c1-5---

No problem for him. While I'm long lost in the woods. He even reads it out loud for me to make sure I have all the moving parts.

I edit, click save, and send one more message to the editor: "Do whatever else you like with this, please!" Because at this point I neither care nor want to hear from them again. Oh wow. Are we done yet? (I honestly don't know.)

Yes, it's a privilege to be published. But people like me probably ought to just hand over their manuscript to someone else. I edit words and phrases for others all the time.  I rework manuscripts to make sense.

What kills me is this final-almost-final-almost-there-almost-final-once-again-with-just-three-more-" The barrage of editing details snarls me in knots.

You just got inside the head of someone with some kind of adult ADD. Awful, right?
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On a happier note, we had wonderful friends over this weekend, albeit with social distancing. W's pizza skills are improving every weekend. Yahoo! We all enjoyed our choices, baked in his super-oven.

My mom (center below) had a wonderful 85th birthday celebration with friends and family. She got many cards from well-wishers, too.

Sometimes life is just good. And all is right with the world.

As long as there's not another email about edits.

Read more:
*The Lord reigns, let the earth be glad; let the distant shores rejoice.

Clouds and thick darkness surround him; righteousness and justice are the foundation of his throne.

Fire goes before him and consumes his foes on every side.

His lightning lights up the world; the earth sees and trembles.

The mountains melt like wax before the Lord, before the Lord of all the earth.

The heavens proclaim his righteousness, and all peoples see his glory.

Psalm 97:1-6  NIV

Prayer: Dear God, when we don't understand, when we can't find our way forward, would you be our Guide? Would you guard our hearts? Watch over us?

Thank you that you made us, know what's enough for us, and will see us through to another day. We rejoice in you, in Jesus' name. Amen.