Last weekend was a three-day long weekend for all New Zealanders courtesy of the Queen of England. But my weekend was so much looooonger than three days that I have just come to the end of it today, Wednesday.
The reason being was not that I went away somewhere nice and enjoyed myself a little too thoroughly. No. Fat chance. Rather, I had a writing deadline for the Sunday to finish a critical chapter in order to meet the final deadline for submission of the whole manuscript this Friday and discovered instead that the critical chapter had critical flaws and needed to be entirely rewritten. I have just come to the end of it now. Some long weekends can be just too looooooong (a bit like this dog).
It gives you some indication of the state of my mental health that I am blogging about this sorry situation rather than getting stuck into reviewing the last two chapters to meet that Friday deadline. Of course if I don't make the deadline it will not be the end of anyone else's world but mine -- and possibly my children's, who have made it increasingly clear that they are sick to death of me saying I'm going to meet a deadline and not meeting it. And yes, this kind of thing has happened before. I may never meet a deadline, at this rate. At least that gives all you other wannabe writers out there a slightly better chance. You're welcome.