Revision Letters: The Unkindest Paper Cut of All

Good Monday, yon bloggerland.

This week, I received two wonderful surprises from my publisher.

The first has to be the coolest part about this whole book deal so far: 
 I named him "Box-O-Books"

A giant box of Harper Collins books! 

When I saw it, I have to admit I went a little weak in the knees, and my heart went all twitterpated, and before I knew it, I was breaking up with Sam in favor of this new Box-o-lover. 

Sam claimed there was room in our house for both him and Box-o-books, but I reminded him we only have a Queen-sized bed.

And sometimes, Box-o-books likes to spread out.

I wouldn't want to cramp Box-o-books' style. 

For a few days, I was on cloud 11, (the lesser-known cousin of cloud 9) and I wondered if there was anything that could bring me back down to earth. 

Then I got this:
 Revision Letter

Just like Box-o-books, Revision Letter (otherwise known as the Helping me Evaluate and Learn Letter, or H-E-L-L) likes to spread out. To a whopping ten pages, single spaced. Inside the letter were ideas on character development, world building, and possible theories as to Kennedy's assassination. 

(At least, I'm pretty sure I saw reference to a "Magic Bullet" somewhere deep in H-E-L-L, like on page 9).

I think I also found the Lindbergh baby in there. 

Anyway, with Box-o-books and H-E-L-L sharing a bed, Sam is definitely on the couch. I would take the couch, but part of the revision process is to let H-E-L-L marinate and sink in, and the best way to do that is to sleep with it. 

Oh, wait. My editor said sleep on it. 

Okay. But when I wake up with paper cuts, I'm suing.

How was all y'all's weekend?

I got to be the guest blogger on Nathan Bransford's blog on Saturday. Click here to read it.

And now...

*dives into H-E-L-L*