Karen Rivers


Karen Rivers

We went to the pumpkin patch.   Our list included:  Pumpkins (6), preferably bumpy, small, lumpy, big, smooth, orange.  

Tis the season, etc.  

Our house has pumpkins painted on the window and plastic spiders perched on houseplants and bats hanging from the chandelier.   I have officially become a person I thought I wasn't.   If you see me wearing a Christmas-themed sweater -- EVER -- tell me loudly, "ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!"  I will accept slaps, if necessary.   The slope is downhill and slippery.  



A couple of nights ago, The Bun had insomnia and he said, "I'm so tired that I just can't sleep."   I thought, "Aw.   So sad to have insomnia when you are only five but also, HOW POETIC!  Probably he's a genius!  A sleep-starved genius, but a genius all the same!"   The next day, in the car, playing the Coldplay song that the kids are obsessed with ("When you lose something you can't replaaaccee..." -- "Is that like CAR KEYS?  Mummy?  DOES HE MEAN HIS KEYS?" etc.) I realized he'd just stolen a line from Chris Martin.   But it's a good song.   No matter what Mr. Karen Rivers thinks.

A couple of weeks ago, I turned a book into my editor that was a LOT different than the draft he'd first looked at.   I'll be the first to admit that it's an unusual book that began as a somewhat usual book but turned into something else entirely on rewrite (and rewrite and rewrite).   

I was worried, Internetz.   I was very very worried that it was SO different from the book that they actually bought that they would pretend to have forgotten about the contract and the publishing schedule and delete me from their e-mail address books  and avert their eyes when they bumped into me at the mall.   Not that they would do this.   Being professionals and all.   But, you know, I FELT like they might.  

And they didn't.   

My editor says, "YES!"*    So after two weeks of angst and snappishness and irritability and general contemplation of alternate career paths that I could have -- SHOULD HAVE! -- taken, the skies parted and the birds** sang, etc.   AND THERE WAS A SPARKLY RAINBOW:


Insert massive sigh of relief HERE.


* not an exact quote

** not the dead birds, just the living ones