The kids are playing with iPads (shut up, it's a Friday night), husband is watching the Celtics, and I'm drinking tequila...well, margaritas. I'm now suspicious that every margarita I've ever ordered from any restaurant has basically been a mix of some lower shelf tequila and the standard margarita mix you can buy for $3 at any grocery store. I'm not complaining, I'm just saying, those are some overpriced drinks. I'm waiting for my kids to go to bed so I can eat the chocolate I have stashed upstairs in the cupboard.
I've been editing the manuscript I'm most emotionally attached to (I've got two...not that big of a deal, but two is a lot compared to where I was about 5 years ago) over the past couple of months and I'm feeling really good about it...this is my year, people...my 33rd year of life...I will polish up this thing and send it out and I will get an agent and I will sell this thing. Oh god....wishful thinking is so amazing...and then heartbreaking...and then delusional.
A co-worker/friend offered to read it when I'm done editing it again (well, I sort of asked her to, what was she gonna say? No?).
What if I really do sell it? It's a YA romance type with a love triangle...I love books like this so what if it really sells and people love it? You know...my god...it would be everything I've ever wanted. Well, not everything I've ever wanted. There are some things I want that I can't ever have, but that's life.
I'm going to go ahead and shut this down now...the tequila is writing things now that I have no control over.
Haha, and I just watched the end of Tropic Thunder and I still love Ludacris...I don't care how old I am and how many kids I have.