Comments on: snapshot http://www.dianapeterfreund.com/snapshot/ Novelist, Dog-Lover, Bon Vivant Thu, 09 Feb 2012 01:48:44 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.9.2 hourly 1 By: Deidre Knight http://www.dianapeterfreund.com/snapshot/comment-page-1/#comment-273 Deidre Knight Thu, 28 Apr 2005 20:28:00 +0000 http://gator465.hostgator.com/~dianablu/snapshot/#comment-273 Whoops...make that wound my WAY here sooner. I obviously "wound", but left brain back with my blackberry. Whoops…make that wound my WAY here sooner. I obviously “wound”, but left brain back with my blackberry.

]]> By: Deidre Knight http://www.dianapeterfreund.com/snapshot/comment-page-1/#comment-272 Deidre Knight Thu, 28 Apr 2005 20:27:00 +0000 http://gator465.hostgator.com/~dianablu/snapshot/#comment-272 Well, good thing Marianne spanked you. Or I would have, had I wound my here sooner. And I think 99% is a good, good thing. :) Work the mantra, baby. <br/>D Well, good thing Marianne spanked you. Or I would have, had I wound my here sooner. And I think 99% is a good, good thing. :) Work the mantra, baby.
D

]]> By: Diana Peterfreund http://www.dianapeterfreund.com/snapshot/comment-page-1/#comment-268 Diana Peterfreund Thu, 28 Apr 2005 14:19:00 +0000 http://gator465.hostgator.com/~dianablu/snapshot/#comment-268 Wow. What a story, Rene! And what a great lesson for me to learn (never conceive a child in March) -- no, just kidding, the bit about the plunge. I think that's exactly how I felt: I made the baby, and everyone looked at it and admired it and sent flowers and presents, and now they are leaving me on my own to, you know, raise the silly thing. ;-) Finish the book, make it rock, etc. I gotta look at my baby and say, "You and me, babe. We're going to do this." Wow. What a story, Rene! And what a great lesson for me to learn (never conceive a child in March) — no, just kidding, the bit about the plunge. I think that’s exactly how I felt: I made the baby, and everyone looked at it and admired it and sent flowers and presents, and now they are leaving me on my own to, you know, raise the silly thing. ;-) Finish the book, make it rock, etc. I gotta look at my baby and say, “You and me, babe. We’re going to do this.”

]]> By: Rene http://www.dianapeterfreund.com/snapshot/comment-page-1/#comment-265 Rene Wed, 27 Apr 2005 20:16:00 +0000 http://gator465.hostgator.com/~dianablu/snapshot/#comment-265 When I had my first baby, I'd been gushed over for months. People would give up their seats for me on the bus, help carry stuff, generally treat me as something special. Then the blessed day arrived and my baby made his entrance. For 3 or 4 hours, the gushing attention continued, then everyone disappeared (he was born on Dec. 23 so people had other stuff to do) and I realized I was alone. From an overabundance of attention to zilch. Not only that, I had to take care of the baby. I'd never even changed a diaper. While the enormity of what has just happened is sinking in, the hormones kicked in. All I wanted to was crawl under the bed with my Tylenol 4's and hide from the world. <br/><br/>Writing a book (and selling it, I imagine) is a similar experience except you don't get stretch marks and nobody offers to prescribe you narcotics afterwards. But the plunge from elation to the doldrums can be swift. It evens out eventually. Oh, okay, it might take two bags of Mother's Cookie Parade assortment to get you through, but eventually you feel normal and back to yourself. When I had my first baby, I’d been gushed over for months. People would give up their seats for me on the bus, help carry stuff, generally treat me as something special. Then the blessed day arrived and my baby made his entrance. For 3 or 4 hours, the gushing attention continued, then everyone disappeared (he was born on Dec. 23 so people had other stuff to do) and I realized I was alone. From an overabundance of attention to zilch. Not only that, I had to take care of the baby. I’d never even changed a diaper. While the enormity of what has just happened is sinking in, the hormones kicked in. All I wanted to was crawl under the bed with my Tylenol 4’s and hide from the world.

Writing a book (and selling it, I imagine) is a similar experience except you don’t get stretch marks and nobody offers to prescribe you narcotics afterwards. But the plunge from elation to the doldrums can be swift. It evens out eventually. Oh, okay, it might take two bags of Mother’s Cookie Parade assortment to get you through, but eventually you feel normal and back to yourself.

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