Or, I might be punch drunk.
Or, it's The Crazy.
JennyB, Minz, and I have been submitting to agents all day. We call these "submissions days." I know really creative. Or as Minz suggested: "Our motherfucking postal days." We try to have one every few months.
My submission day picture is not appropriate for public view.
My back hurts, Minz's ass hurts, and JennyB is getting angry, which is pissing me off because I am the angry one.
We've been at this for 6 1/2 hours.
When Minz asked, "Is it time for wine?" JennyB and I nearly shrieked, "Yes!"
I've stopped sending queries because at this point, I'm going to replace, "May I send you a partial or complete manuscript?" with "Stop fucking around and publish me already!"
We had plans to go to Restorative Yoga, but that went in the shitter, because now Minz is drunk.
JennyB just said, "I submitted eight! Eight is enough, get it?"
Ya, that's where we are at.
Now, Minz and JennyB are exchanging French phrases.
I don't know what's going on.
Update: JennyB snagged an agent yesterday! And, Minz had a short story accepted! Ladies, please comment about the details of your success. The rest of you--go to Missed Periods and congratulate JennyB!