Half Pregnant

I'm in this weird half-pregnant state at the moment.

I still have sore boobs, still have a big belly, still need the loo all the time, amd still permanently hungry.

I still have a baby inside me, it's just that it's a dead baby and it has to come out, and I just have to watch and wait.

It's 2cm long.

Sorry. Sorry you had to read that.

But this is how it is. This is what's happening.

Sorry.


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Where I'm At

As you'll have gathered from the other posts, I'm still waiting to hear about my book. I've sent it to some agents I've had some personal contact with and who have some vague idea who I am, which gives me a slightly better chance than just sending it randomly into the void.

But it's an inexact science, and agents don't generally take work on unless they love it. So you just have to cross your fingers and hope for the best. But if these guys don't love it, it doesn't mean someone else won't. In that case, I'd just have to start again from scratch and send it to a whole load of new people. After doing yet another edit on it.

Editing's a problem. I enjoy editing, and I'm good at it. Because I'm a perfectionist. Because I seek out and act on (appropriate) criticism. Because I'm an inveterate tinkerer and am always trying to make things better. But I'm also impatient, which means that sometimes I get sick of the whole thing and send things out before they're ready. And I have a tendency to rewrite, therefore introducing a load of new errors, and then not editing thoroughly enough to get rid of them (because I can't wait). But on the other hand... you have to stop somewhere. If you keep editing and editing, you can bash the life out of something. That's the thing. Did you send it out too early? Or too late?

So, yes. Sorry. Got sidetracked again. I'm waiting to hear about the book.

In the meantime, I'm pregnant, and that's making me a little ill. I do have another blog where I talk a little more about baby-related stuff, but I've been avoiding too much blogging lately because text makes me nauseous. Writing computer software makes me even worse, which is why I'm off half-sick at the moment. I can manage things in short bursts, so I'm working when I can, but it's a lot less than normal.

Indeed, I've done way too much blogging this morning and am now feeling rather queasy. Which means I need to step away from the keyboard. But it's a bit like not going to the loo when you're playing a computer game. You get all engrossed, and it's not until you step away from the keyboard that you realise your bladder's about to explode. I won't stretch the analogy any further - use your imaginations.

I'm eight weeks pregnant and my bump sticks out further than my tits already - which is saying something, as I am positively boobalicious at the moment. Sad they're so bloody sore and none of my bras fit, but I'm happy. And now I need to, rather gingerly, step away from the keyboard and do something else instead.


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Pass Me a Healthy Snack

It's very time-consuming isn't it, being relaxed?

I'm so busy sleeping and chilling out, there are no hours left for anything else. Not even blogging!

I'm still here, I'm just Living A Life of Leisure*.

Rather enjoying it, too.



[* For random visitors, occasional poppers-in and people who aren't paying attention, I'm pregnant. In typical anal-retentive fashion, I am Taking It Very Seriously Indeed and Looking After Myself Everso Carefully. I definitely need to find more obsessive projects that involve me lying around watching telly. It's the way of the future, I tell you]


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Well Being, Being Well

I'm fine, by the way. Tip top. Never better.

In a strange kind of limbo, waiting for babies and book deals and emails from agents (hint, hint) and resolutely not waiting for any kind of illness and chilling out more than I have done in the last two years in the process. Which is why I'm not blogging much. Too busy lazing around watching telly and sleeping a lot.

But please don't worry about me. I'm fine.


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Mary Poppins, Barf Your Heart Out

OK, from now on this subject is officially closed, because contemplating / talking about it is distracting me from what I should be doing, which is thinking positive and assuming that all will be well.

But this is too good for me not to share it with you. Courtesy of Rob:

HyperPukingBarfingSpewEmesisGravidarum,
Even though the thought of it may fill you with alarum,
Hang in there until you've got the baby in your arums,
HyperPukingBarfingSpewEmesisGravidarum

Um diddle-iddle-iddle um diddle-I, um diddle-iddle-iddle um diddle-I...


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Oh, For Heaven's Sake

It has come to my notice that some people are simply not paying attention.

I've tried subtle linkage, I've tried letters to agents about how it might affect my effectiveness as an author, but all to no avail...

I AM PREGNANT, PEOPLE. THERE IS A BABY IN MY TUMMY.

All right? Got it now?

P.S. I might get a bit ratty at times, too. Sorry about that.


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A Note For Agents and Publishers

I've always been rubbish at keeping secrets about myself. Other people, no problem. I understand they like their privacy, and how distressing it can be when people betray your confidence. But me... I'm not that arsed about privacy. Never have been. And it gets me into trouble.

I'm always telling the world whatever the hell pops into my head, and then agonising over whether maybe I shouldn't have...

There's a convention that you don't tell people about pregnancies until you reach 12 weeks. Because of miscarriages, which are more common than you think. But if you don't tell anyone, then if anything does go wrong, it's harder to get sympathy and support. Because nobody knew in the first place.

So I'm not worried about that.

No. The thing is...

What if agents and publishers visit this site? What if they say to each other, "Oh my God, she's got some terrible illness that's going to put her out of action for the next nine months, and then there'll be a baby, and what about edits and rewrites and publicity and... nah, don't bother."

So this is me saying, Come back, agents and publishers! It's all right!

First of all, I'm not going to get ill. I'm determined. I've done everything I can to avoid it. I am not going to get ill. But because I'm a planner and a control freak and always contemplate every eventuality... I can also tell you that if I do get ill, it will come in fits and spurts and there will be plenty of time around the edges of it all when I will be fine. And the illness would all be over long before the book was published. And I'm good at meeting deadlines, small babies or not. And and and...

Oh, just publish my book. Go on. It's a great book.

Thank you.


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P.S.

I'm not ill as yet, just taking it easy.


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News

I have news!


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I LIKE MY BREASTS

Just in case any of you have been lying awake at night worrying about me, here is a copy of an email I just sent to a concerned reader:

"Hi William,

I'm afraid you're missing the point. I LIKE my droopy boobs.

Any woman of my physique and my age who has had children, will have droopage no matter what she does. There's no avoiding it, barring cosmetic surgery. Even when I was a pert young thing, my tits were always capable of holding pencils. It's just the way they are.

Seriously though: Consider the swell and the curve of a full boob that doesn't shoot straight out from the chest in a quest to stab any passers-by in the eye. Is a pendulous breast not a wondrous thing?

It's normal, it's sexy, and there is NO NEED for any of us to jump through hoops and waste valuable time and money trying to correct something which shouldn't be a problem in the first place.

Thanks for spending the time on emailing me your considered advice. But as you see, it wasn't actually necessary...

Cheers,
Clare."


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