Amazon Contest

I'm a deadline person. I don't make Thanksgiving stuffing in October; shop for Christmas gifts in July or pay the IRS one day before April 15th. In writing when I reach the deadline date, I go berserk, knuckle down, ignore the phone, don't eat and as happened Friday night, don't sleep, either.
My entry for the Amazon contest (which I told you yesterday I have no expectations of winning) only doing it for the exposure, Publishers Weekly is involved in the judging and I'm told that's good.
I start working away a 9 pm. on the computer, cleaning up the little words, I hate little words: an, of, out, up, I mean, how many people stand down? and making sure every character keeps the same color hair and eyes all the way through, etc. etc. "The Azaleas," a Southern plantation real estate mystery features an African-American tap-dancing little boy called Louie.
My friend Pattie read the manuscript. "You have to change the name Louie."
"Why?"
"Because this is a Sandra Bullock movie and she has a little boy she adopted in New Orleans called Louie. It might offend her and she may refuse to star in the movie."
I love my friends. They have such grandiose ideas, they keep me floating.
Who knows what to change Louie to, so we go to the internet and look up most popular African American names and come up with LeBron. I'm moaning about finding each Louie and changing it to Lebron, when Pattie gives me an incredible stare, punches two buttons on my computer and says, "There. It's done."
That's what good friends are for.
I'm working away, 350 pages to check, that's a helluva lot of typing and when I finish and look up it's 6 a.m. too late to go to sleep. I have half a mind to call Randy Howes who has just told me he gets "zoned out" and loses track of time and his wife pushes trays of food under the door for him and sometimes it's days before he surfaces. He wrote 16 books last year, that's better than one a month. He's not human. He's a genuis machine.
I take a shower and begin my day (Saturday) at sunup which is not my favorite time. Deadline is midnight and since I'm such a computer klutz Pattie has offered to upload the manuscript for me. Yesterday we filled out Amazon's complicated entry form. We clicked through it without having to find a lawyer to explain all the wherases and wherifes. She sets up something called a Drop Box, so she can access the manuscript from her computer.
All Saturday I can't find Pattie. Friends come over for supper and I'm all smiles like a an adequate hostess should be and all the time I'm having internal frenzy because now it's 9 p.m. and still no Pattie.
 Maybe she forgot.
"I know where she is," somebody said. "She's gone to take a rescue dog to New Orleans." Pattie's into that.
One great blessing comes with being old and on your way out. Nothing much matters. If it happens, it happens, if not, it was a good exercise in whatever. The midnight deadline is fast approaching.
I wash the dishes, clean the kitchen and crawl into bed. So be it.
At 11:30 the phone rings. Phone rings at that time I think somebody is having an emergency and my hearts skips a couple of beats.
"Okay," the voice says at the other end. "You're in. Check your e-mail in the morning. You'll have a confimation number."
 A good friend never lets you down. Thanks, Pattie.
On the other hand, let me tell you about my problems with the Spanish translator--