Ok, I know the guys out there will get exactly what I’m talking about. Your team is winning. You’ve made it through a few games, but you still have a ways to go. You’re on a streak. And a streak has to be honored.
So what exactly does that mean? For some it means you follow the same ritual each day. Maybe you eat four eggs, white toast and juice for breakfast without fail. You put on the same pair of shoes, the same shirt (and you’d better not wash that baby, cuz that’ll jinx it) put your hat on with your left hand and spit three times over your right shoulder.
I know it’s weird…but you’re honoring that streak!
So why should editing a book be any different? I’m more than half way through. I’m kicking ass and taking names. My story is better than I ever even imagined it could be (and I already thought it was good) and I want to make sure nothing gets between me and the New York Times Bestsellers list. I need to honor my streak in a big way, and this is how I’m going to do it.
I roll out of bed at the crack of noon (ok, I’ve been getting up waaay earlier than that) after being awake past four am. Before I take the dog out or brush my teeth, I drag my laptop into the bed and dive into the story. When I finally force myself out of bed to throw on clothes, I start with an Eddie Bauer sweatshirt—unwashed since at least Monday—paired with my favorite pair of jeans and my suede slipper moccasins. It doesn’t matter that the temperatures dipped far below freezing and my slippers barely keep out the cold inside the house, or that I refuse to wear a coat over the sweatshirt, or even that I don’t have a hat to put on with my left hand (or the right one for that matter)…I’m honoring the streak, and the streak doesn’t care about the cold.
The streak wants me to eat cookies for breakfast (because I may as well save my calories for something tasty), quesadillas for lunch, and chicken pot pie for dinner. (Ok, so the streak may be listening to my stomach, but who cares. I’m not about to mess things up now!)
My husband has begged me to give it up…not the editing, but the whole thing with the streak…he doesn’t get the sports metaphor and he’s tired of seeing me in the same sweatshirt every day. He wants his wife back, but I keep telling him he needs to wait it out. I’ve only got a few more chapters to go…I can see the light at the end of the scary tunnel…and I’m ready for a celebration befitting a Super Bowl champion.
And I’m ready for a shower and some clean clothes. Just sayin…
Until the next time…I’ll be editing!