Writing a book is an exercise in self-delusion. I was convinced that when I finished the first draft, everything would be a downhill glide. When the edits came back, so too did the edict: I had to do all rewrites in a week. Somehow I made it. Now I was REALLY over the hump. Except when the ms. came back from the copy editors, I had days to go through it all again. And good thing too — I was so burned out in the editing phase, I had missed some things that would have been semi-disastrous had they gone through. So now I HAD to be over the hump. Except that as I was about to go through the page proofs, looking forward to being able to read carefully from start to finish on an almost-complete book, I got word from David/Barry — the brain trust concluded we needed an epilogue after all.
I was on vacation the week before Christmas, skiing with the wife and kids. I’d be returning to Christmas weekend with relatives. They needed an epilogue complete by Dec., 28. My son’s birthday. I begged for two more days, and to my shock and relief, I got them. Actually made the deadline, realizing the brain trust had been right — an epilogue WAS necessary.
Over the hump?
Not quite. The edits came back, and I needed to turn them around the same day, which was yesterday.
Now. Certainly. There. Can. Be. No. Mistake.
I am over the hump.
Please.
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