...is what I got today.
The editor involved in yesterday's debacle got back to me today, and we discussed ways to push back his production schedule to get the delayed story in the issue he (and I) want it in. What it all boils down to is this: if the photographs can be taken by a date that may be possible, we'll make it. Now I have to report back to the person who called for the delay and see if I can push him along a bit.
This will make it harder on me. I'll have to gather the information in bits and pieces to have the story done before the photo session. I don't like writing stories in small chunks to be stitched together at the last moment. Real writers can do that, I'm told.
Nonetheless, I'll do it. And this was the best news I've had all day.
When you get right down to cases, it was the only news I've had today.
That ain't good.
I'm still floating around aimlessly. Sometimes -- this is one of them -- I need an anchor. But since my "anchor" jumped ship* many months ago, I feel like the little fuzzy critter in a "Wack-a-Mole" game, waiting for that hammer to pound me back into whatever hole I dare pop my head out of.
When you're alone, the highs are never as high, and the lows are beyond description. And there is no good escape from what's inside your head.
* this may be the dumbest mixed metaphor I've ever used. I'm kinda proud of it.
3 hours ago