Lo these many months ago (August?), I submitted a solicited abstract for a proposed edited collection. I then sort of 65% forgot about it. I mean, it would cross my mind occasionally, but it was pretty far off the radar most of the time.
Well, I just found out that the collection has been accepted for publication. Good news! It has a final deadline about 6-7 months out. Um...okay! (This is the final deadline, you know, so it's not the date by which I need to submit a draft. That will be much sooner.)
So what did I say that I would write about again?
You know that kind of mid-way freak-out/happy feeling? Because this is good news, and will spur me to actually do something scholarship-wise (I've been tragically since summer, except for the colloquium talk and the MLA paper and some book reviews), but it's also a little alarming to have, you know, a deadline again, especially on a project that I only 35% remembered and haven't started writing yet. Oh, and I have a book review to write by late April. And right, the annual bibliographic essay. And nine thesis committees that'll be wrapping up in--hey, April! And those three classes that I'm teaching, two of which are writing intensive.
Oh! And right! Having a baby in June!
So there's that. A little more pile-on of the stress. It's okay; I'll manage. I'll whine, but I'll manage. (And I'll be on maternity leave all fall, so there's a light at the end of the work-tunnel, even if those 4 months will only be spent breastfeeding and doing laundry.)
And then I clicked on the "show details" of the "to" list from the email announcing the acceptance of the book proposal. I'll level with you here: I thought that, given that the editors were soliciting an abstract from me, this would likely be a middling collection. (Yes, Impostor Syndrome lingers, despite the publication of a monograph and recent promotion to associate [which comes a year before tenure at Field, so I'm not through every hoop just yet].)
But--well--there are some pretty damn impressive names in that list. Some that I don't know, of course, but some that everybody knows.