I finally emailed the editor.
After writing yesterday's blog post, I swallowed my fear and emailed the New York Times editor. She said she expected to publish the essay sometime in August, and shared some kind words and suggested edits.
I find these edits so helpful. It's like getting free mentorship along with the byline. Language gets leaner and stronger. Nuances surface. The next essay I write is better because of this guidance.
If I could, I'd let this enthusiasm springboard me into even more essays. A few hours of writing sounds like a perfect cure for the stagnation I've been feeling. But my body refuses to rise to the occasion. I caught a chill this afternoon that I haven't been able to shake. I feel run down, on the brink of some bug. I want to spend all weekend curled up in bed with a few good books.
Or maybe I'll wake up tomorrow feeling fine, and we'll all go to the county fair. I'd take either outcome, really.