Big changes

We’re moving in twelve days. Ish. We’re moving in twelve-ish days. Also? The final, final, finally-final edit of our book is due in fourteen days. (No “ish,” there. Fourteen days. Two weeks from today.) Those are two very big things that I am doing in two weeks. So.

This final book edit includes all the art that will be in the book, which includes not only the excellent illustrations by our devastatingly talented illustrator (as well as additional images by a multi-talented blogger you may be familiar with, and if you’re not, you should be) but also all the public-domain clip art and photos we’re relying on because 1) illustrations are expensive (if worth it!) and 2) did you know that the authors have to pay the illustrator out of their advance? Or their trust funds? Whichever? The things you learn!

So I'm a little busy. It’s a good thing I have these beta blockers to abuse, I’ll tell you what. Plus fistfuls of Xanax. I am so goddamn mellow.

Let’s talk about our apartment, shall we? We got an apartment. I’m really excited. It’s the only apartment on the third and top-most floor, which means there shall be no one above us to stomp around and/or murder each other. (Of course some pigeons might engage in a final showdown up there. As they do.) No one will even be walking past our door. And if anyone approaches our floor, we have permission to kill them. (I think. I have to check the lease.) Also, once it is built and barring any acts of God etc. we will have a roof deck. Roof. Deck. All to ourselves. Party at our place!

The place is sunny and high-ceilinged and has many other fine attributes, such as a washer/dryer (every apartment dweller in New York just got woozy when they read that), and Henry loves his new room. It's going to be great. In the meantime, though, we have to move, which is unfortunate. Who wants to help us pack? We’ll supply the boxes and packing tape. Where are you going?

The good news is that we’ve seriously streamlined since last year’s move, when we owned a quirky and vast collection of teapots and numerous vintage suitcases filled with tortured diaries and, oh, an an entire basement crammed floor to ceiling with baby items. I’ve discovered that I enjoy nothing more than getting rid of stuff. I am the anti-hoarder. There should be a reality show about people like me. “Squanderers.” “Throwers-away.” You can watch me stacking gravy boats on the curb with a sign that says “FREE! GET IT OUT OF HERE! FREE!” while Scott pleads with me to keep at least one, for God’s sake, surely at some point we will use gravy on something. Get on that, television executives.

Who wrote a book?

I did! With Eden! Hey everyone, Eden and I finished our book!

I could have sworn I wrote about this when it happened, but I see that in fact I did not. How could I have let this slip past unmentioned? That was insane of me.

The book was due March 1st, and we emailed the entire honking manuscript sometimes in the wee hours of the morning that day. The last few weeks of work were much less painful than I had been led to believe they would be, I have to say. I was told to expect not showering and not eating and wearing my pajamas inside-out and possibly some stress-induced migraines, maybe some spontaneous fear-vomiting. I was sure we were doing it wrong, because I wasn't crying or soiling myself.

On the other hand, the relative ease of our last week or so was probably because we had been working for quite a while with a deadline of February 1st. It was only in January that we were told we had another month. So that's my tip to you writers: fool yourself into thinking you have less time. Ask your editor to lie to you, then forget that she's lying, somehow--I'm sure there's a medication that can help you get all forgetsy--then scramble around in a blind, weepy panic, only to find out a couple of weeks before the faux deadline that you really have oodles more time!

I have another tip for you: start a website called "Forgetsy." I don't know what it would be. That's up to you to figure out.

26 days until manuscript delivery

This is what happens when I instant-message with Eden. We try to work on our book then we start talking about nicknames and then everything goes black.

(I have deleted the parts where we sent animated emoticons to each other, back and forth, for hours. You're welcome.)

kennedy_mrs: I had a roommate try to call me Ede. Oh how I laughed behind her back.

kennedy_mrs: My old boss calls me Edie Gourmet. It's the only nickname that's truly haunted me my entire life.

finslippy: OOF

kennedy_mrs: Sometimes he just calls me Gourmet.

kennedy_mrs: No, it's okay, coming from him. He's a goof.

finslippy: I had a camp counselor call me Milton Bradley, and I wanted to kill him.

kennedy_mrs: LOL

finslippy: Then he started calling me Milton. Then Milt.

finslippy: Not what a 12-year-old GIRL wants to be called. NOT AT ALL.

finslippy: Chapter 11 is done. DONE!

kennedy_mrs: chapter 11 is done!!

finslippy: I mean, I think.

kennedy_mrs: Good enough

finslippy: MY THOUGHTS ARE IMPORTANT

finslippy: I MEAN SOMETHING

kennedy_mrs: you have a dream!

finslippy: I am exactly like Martin Luther King Jr!

finslippy: Actually more like Martin Luther

kennedy_mrs: Milton Luther

finslippy: Oh dear.

kennedy_mrs: Uncle Milty Luther

kennedy_mrs: funny, right? are you laughing? WHY AREN'T YOU LAUGHING?

finslippy: HAHAHAHAAAAAAAAHHRERERWER

finslippy: If I made a board game out of the Reformation, then I would really be MILTON LUTHER

kennedy_mrs: god you're so intellectual

finslippy: You know it.

finslippy: Did you chuckle and/or nod with a wry smile?

kennedy_mrs: uh

finslippy: DID YOU

kennedy_mrs: the only thing I remember about martin luther is that he nailed 99 somethings to a church door, and this upset the diet of worms

kennedy_mrs: 99 theses

finslippy: HA HA DIET OF WORMS

kennedy_mrs: HA HA WORMS

kennedy_mrs: Germany is a mysterious land

Briefly, before the year ends

You! You, my readers, are too wonderful for words. Even the wacky comments I received on my last post--which were gloriously few and far between--were heartfelt and sweet. I love you all. You, especially. Yes, you, the one reading this. Come here. I shall give you a noogie. An affectionate one.

I have been posting sporadically at best for the past few weeks, and I intend to further try your patience as Eden and I hurtle toward our ever-nearing book deadline. Apparently when you get a book deal, you are then expected to write the book. Yikes. So as you can imagine, my brain has been pretty busy with that whole thing. Which is nice. I mean, for me. Maybe not for you, so much, yet. (Could that sentence be any more awkwardly constructed?) But just you wait.

I am taking a break from Finslippy until the holidays are over, so that I may wrap presents and strew tinsel on things. And stop worrying that I have nothing to write on my blog and my readers are expecting something and they deserve something good because they are so freaking wonderful.

Happy everything, and I will see you in the new year!