Okay, I'm supposed to be nice. All the older ladies in my church think I'm nice. Here's a little secret. I'm not, at least not all the time.
I've been sick this week, and last week, with two of the three writing deadlines I had still hanging over my head, I wasn't planning to be nice this week.
And why mess up a good plan?
So, this week, my deadlines done, and no more sleepless nights, I am supposed to be nice.
But I'm not.
Still sick, I was up in the night last night, sipping ginger beer to settle my stomach, and turned on the TV. Some survivor guy was living out in the Sahara, and showed me how to eat a live scorpion. No thank you.
And we had a huge snowstorm this week, only to discover the snowblower had a gas leak, and my husband kept tracking in gasoline. I hate the smell.
Then, my pastor's wife told me how she wasn't able to get in to the hospital for her surgery because of the storm and how the taxis were telling her she had to wait. She was so kind and polite. Much more than I'd have been!!! They kept telling her a twenty minute wait, until she missed her appointment, while I would have been telling the dispatcher that I was needed at the hospital right now! (I told you all I wasn't nice) Of course, it may have been like shooting myself in the foot, but you have to be honest with yourself.
Then, today, it had come to a head. I receive the Romance Writers Report and often read how these young upstart writers are selling stories to electronic publishers after only a few years, (It took me 11) and now they're down to months!! PULEEAASSSE!
What's next? Signing the a contract for three books when you've never written a sentence? What's wrong with paying your dues?
Oh, sure, some of you say it's just sour grapes, and you're probably right, but a part of me is just expressing what most of us have actually thought at some time or another. Right?
Don't look away. Look me in the eye. And know that, like you all, I'm not always the nicest person around.