I blogged a week or so ago about singing "The Way We Were" in a dream, which affected my mood for the whole day. Well last night I sang Copa Cabana, probably because of that Barry Manilow concert I watched on PBS the other night, but oddly the mood today doesn't match the song. Or maybe it does, because despite the samba beat, the lyrics are tragic. I'm not blue, just careful and thoughtful. Slow. I get the feeling there were other dreams before the Copa one that are bearing upon my day.
Well I am a little sad, because I resigned from my editing job over the weekend. I have to finish up this book, another week, tops, and then I will no longer hold the title Content Editor. *sniff* It was necessary. I spent a lot of time thinking about what I really wanted to do, got those priorities lined up straight, and finishing this WIP was #1, right up top. Let me tell you folks, it ain't writing itself, and editing simply takes too much of my time and focus. It almost killed me last month when I didn't even have time to open my document for three weeks solid. When I applied for the job in April, time wasn't a concern because I couldn't even type with both hands, and I didn't know if I would ever write again. I'm driving forward now.
My managing editor was sweet about it, saying she about cried when she read my email because she hated to lose such a good editor. My self-deprecating instinct says that's just what people say, but at this point there's really no reason for her to pump sunshine up my skirt, to borrow a phrase from an old friend. So maybe if this writing thing slows down I can pick up the mantle again, because I did so like calling myself an editor.
But for now, I'm just a plain wannabe again.