I realized today that I have met my mini-goal.
I had set, as one of my goals over Christmas Break, to make it to 8,000 words. Not that this is a significant portion of the book (as I’m aiming at more than ten times that), but it is the maximum length for the submission guidelines for Viable Paradise, a writer’s workshop I want and hope to attend. So now I have no reason NOT to apply. I mean, hey, I might (and probably will) get a polite “No, sorry, not this year,” but what will that mean? That I need to work more, and learn more, and reapply, right?
So now I’m working on the rest of the submission packet–an outline of the book, a cover letter, etc. And for some reason, those scare me more than the writing of the book itself. So now I’m a nervous wreck.
On top of all that, I’ve got a training to attend this week, another next week, and an observation coming up soon. And I’ve got students pissed off at me because they didn’t bother to check out a book a month ago when I assigned them a book report, and they seem to be of the opinion that I should have held their hands and taken them to the library, and they’ve got their parents on my butt about it.
Yay, public education in America.
And now you know why I’m a stress case.