I once had a boss who claimed to say, “Would you like a little cheese with that whine?” to her pre-teen daughter, and I found that both terribly snide and impossibly clever. There is some little part of me that would like to give that snotty retort to my own petulant offspring one day.

Nonetheless, at the moment, I am the petulant offspring.

I won’t bore you with the details (I hope), but sufficed to say, I have decided the last 40 pages of a book are the rough equivalent to the last week of pregnancy.

I have HAD IT.

I am EXHAUSTED.

And yet I’m pushing forward, hitting my quotas as if my very life depends upon it.

Because, I guess in a way, it does.

It you want to be a writer, and you want to make a living as a writer, you have to write. And you have to push hard and make it good and get a product that can be sold and get the attention of an agent and convince them to sign you and then hopefully have a good enough agent that they make the rest of it happen.

And that, my friends, is harder than it sounds.

Case in point? Tonight at the grocery store, purchasing a bleary-eyed lot of corn on the cob, cantaloupe, orange juice, and vegetable oil (got to batter and fry the home-grown zucchini in something), the kid who checked me out observed, “You look really tired.”

And I DO.

And I AM.

So that’s really all there is to say.

Look tired, am tired, and will catch up with you with something entertaining as soon as I’m able. I swear!

p.s.

Those of you using Internet Explorer 8 (IE8): I’ve been getting the feedback that you’ve been having real problems with the blog.

Is it better now?
Can you see this normally?

Let me know if you get a chance.

There’s rumor that the ‘show last comment’ plug-in is causing some of the errors, so if things still look wacky to you, I’ll get rid of it if need be.

The way things are going, before this is over my threat of a generic blog (black on white with maybe a UPC symbol and the roar of The Beast when you first log in) could very well come true…