Last Monday, when I should have been working at my real job, I was suddenly inspired to finish the pieces that I have been working on for Quilter's Home magazine. Jake Finch, the managing editor, had told me that even though they couldn't publish the piece I sent them, they still wanted something, and, since she had been reading the blog, she seemed pretty sure I could come up with new material with no problem.
Well, of course I had problems. Whether it was the timing, or the pressure to produce, I was stuck. I had 3 ideas, but just couldn't do anything with them, leading me to think that perhaps the ideas sucked, but then how was I going to come up with any more ideas? I had started writing one of them, completely unable to tell if it was funny or not. I was writing what I thought would make me laugh, if I weren't in such a deep pit of despair, and just hoped that, once I came to my senses and was able to recognize humor again, I would see it for the brilliant piece of satire it was.
Last Monday must have been my day, because - though I will never actually use the word "brilliant" to describe anything I create - I looked at it again, and I liked it. Not only that, but the other two ideas, which had been festering in my brain for weeks, suddenly came to life as well and I wrote them both on the spot. After another hour of deliberation and Dr. Pepper chugging, I emailed them off to Jake.
She responded very quickly, saying that they were in the middle of production for their next issue (as was I, and why I should have been working) and would not be able to get to them for a few days, but she seemed genuinely pleased to have them and looked forward to reading them. So now, again, I wait.
Last night, I dreamed that Mark sent me an email, in which he referred to the original article as "The Greatest Article Ever Written Too Bad We Can't Publish It Thanks A Lot," and scolded me for having the balls to send three pieces at one time, when everyone knows that it is extremely unprofessional to send more than one.
And then he called my boss to complain about me.