As the final read-through of The Hushing Days stares me in the face this morning, I recoil slightly at the cocky, “Bow before me, chattel!” smirk aimed my way.
Yes, I’m feeling rather owned by the manuscript.
Bullied by it, if you will.
Well, that nonsense has to stop.
So, wish me well as I confront the novel one last time before it is shoved at my literary agent.
If you’ll excuse me, I have a hard hat and a baseball bat to find.