I'm feeling a terrible sense of guilt here. I've spent the past three days in writing activities. I've completely revised a manuscript; I'll send revisions to the editor on Wednesday. I've outlined a new manuscript; I’ll polish it off for my next critique group session. I wrote several blog post for my super secret blog which I never even posted. And I blogged here late Thursday night. I even joined a creative writing group through my church. What's wrong with that? I have a crapload of illustration that needs to be started, and I'm leaving on vacation this week. That's what!
Also, I received feedback from a manuscript, and I'm experiencing a mixture of emotions. Mostly, I'm on a high because the manuscript received rave reviews from a very reputable industry professional. "...charming story, well-written and sporting a most appealing character...," she said. But, also, I was advised that today's trade market is looking for more "commercial, edgy stories." I'm not sure what that means. Do I gotta write about farting dogs? I'm not complaining, I can write one helluvah funny farting dog story, if that's what I must do, and if that's what kids, parents, editors and librarians want. But, I especially like writing things that my conscience can give approval to. Though, on second thought, my conscience sure ain't guiltless of farting.