Also, the nice lovely courier man rang my doorbell and smilingly delivered my package from HarperCollins today. I nearly kissed his shaggy-bearded face, but I do have some dignity left somewhere around here. I think.
Anyway, I have only had time to glance over the long letter and the numerous comments my editor scribbled on the manuscript, but what I can see looks quite sensible and not at all discouraging. There is a lot of work ahead of me -- tightening, reframing, clarifying, and moving information around -- but hardly any suggestions that I'd disagree with. And even on those few points where I do disagree that something needs to change or be cut, I see that the fault is mine for not explaining that aspect of the story more clearly, and that the difficulty will probably go away once I've done that.
I have no idea how long it's going to take me to actually do the revisions, or exactly how I'm going to tackle them. But I do feel that the end result will be very worthwhile, and that nothing of real value will be lost in the process.
Now if I can only get over the cold, and the PMS, and the three bored, snowbound kids yelling at each other...