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Soft Other Shoe

Did you ever have a moment in life where you were pretty sure you were dreaming, even though all the normality bleeding through was trying to argue that hey, no, this is actually happening?

Yeah, that’s been the case off and on for the past week and a half or thereabouts. Work has been odd, alternately dead as a doornail and busy as heck. I’ve taken on half a dozen or so extra projects for work, and with G still sick I’m doubling up at home too. The knee has been so-so. Considering the time of year, not awful, but not great either. Thank goodness my daughter and grandson moved back in and she is doing most of the cooking.

Today was a few hours’ overtime. I would’ve rather slept the afternoon away, but the company was begging for coverage and I figured extra money never hurts.

Just before I walked out of the door to go to work, though, I got a phone call from my oldest son, who told me that he heard back from the author who was going to critique my book. Since my son posted on Facebook, I guess it doesn’t matter if I post here that the author is Piers Anthony. Turns out Mr. Anthony did a one-up on the promise of a critique, saying that he intends to review the book on his January blog post. I hope that’s a good thing. My son seemed to think it was. I go back and forth, thinking, “OMG squee, Piers Anthony is going to review my book!” And then I think, “Oh shit. I handed that corny piece of tripe over to someone who knows real writing? It’s so gonna get torn to shreds.” It’s like the other shoe dropped and I can’t figure out if it’s a ballet shoe and light as a feather, or a horseshoe for a Clydesdale and my toes are gonna fall off.

I’m a reasonably capable writer. My brain tells me this. I wish the rest of me would get the memo sometime, and balance it out with the streak of common sense that reminds me, “You ain’t all that, either. I went through a fat-headed period back in radio that lasted oh, a day or so, before reality intruded and (justifiably) kicked that can to the curb. I hope I don’t cross that line again, but there’s a weird balancing act when you’re trying to promote yourself. You HAVE to get “out there” and HAVE to come across as confident to the point of conceit. But there’s a fine line you don’t want to cross.

I considered making a list of things that would be crossing the line, but I’m so bleary eyed at the moment, who knows what would come out?

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