No, of course I’m not zipping through the revisions. It’s torture, plain and simple. Two-thirds of the manuscript must be picked over, rewritten, resorted, organized, blah, blah, blah…I’m so tired of my own whining.
When I get a break, I buy zippers at Walmart.
Yes, I buy zippers. In pretty colors. All different colors.
This is because I bought a pattern on Etsy last November. I had big plans to sew up Christmas gifts. Each gift required two zippers of the same color, to match whatever fabrics I chose for said gift and its lining.
I made one of them. Which was a HUGE accomplishment, because the darn thing was not easy to make. I ripped out a lot of stitches. A LOT OF STITCHES. I felt like an idiot. In fact, I felt just the way I did when I was flunking 8th grade Home Ec and Mrs. Dykstra made me rip out the armhole facings of my green and gold Hawaiian beach-dress-in-progress.
She made me rip it out three times. I loved that dress, though. But I didn’t love Mrs. Dykstra.
She thought I had deliberately placed the gold moon (rising over the dark emerald ocean) in the center of my right breast. Why she thought I had the skill and foresight to do that is still a mystery. Seriously, Mrs. D? You thought I figured that out ahead of time???
So I am working all hours, day and night, to finish this stupid book, this stupid book which I hate with a passion. But sometimes I look at my zippers and know that I will be sewing again soon. These are my little zippy carrots-on-a-stick, so to speak.
I love them. I think they look happy on my desk.