It gives a sense of satisfaction to finish a project. Today I submitted my 4,000-word piece on the life of Hall of Fame outfielder Hack Wilson. Right on time to the day it was due. Of course, given the kind of person I am--a procrastinator--I waited until there was just enough time left to get the thing done. The research I had completed literally over a year ago, but I just never got around to writing the damn thing. Still, it turned out okay, and the editor wanted only a few nit-noy changes.
For the moment, I find myself with nothing pressing to do on my desk. I have just about decided to refuse the latest task Savas-Beattie has sent my way. The author of the manuscript is, to say the very least, a real pain in the butt to work with. I've spent far too much uncompensated time with him already on a manuscript that I think has some glaring defects. But apparently he wants to argue and whine about every suggested improvement or observation. I don't have time, much less patience, for this.