Saturday. The day the Seven Year-Old SPRINGS out of bed and comes and taps on my face right around seven o’clock in the morning. During the week? I have to wake him up, and then he sobs quietly about going to school.
Luckily, there’s coffee.
I haven’t gotten any more rejections, and got a half-good response (read some, looking forward to reading more) from another editor, which is good. I am hoping the radio silence means people are running around their publishing offices clutching my ms. saying ‘We have GOT to get this, read it ASAP and let me know when I can make the offer!’. Who said I wasn’t optimistic?!?
Or they’re too busy rushing to the paper shredder to email my agent and let her know never to darken their door with such trash again.
Meanwhile, I am officially more than halfway done with Road to Passion, have started Loretta Chase (as off-line reading), am still loving Annie Dean’s book (as on-line reading), and am seeing Suisan this weekend. The weather, today at least, is supposed to be awesome, which is very exciting to someone as shallow as me. And did I mention I went to Book-Off and got ten books for twelve dollars? Not that I needed new books (we’re moving in a few months, we need less stuff, not more), but they were such a good deal, I couldn’t resist.
So yeah, life is good. Which is weird, since normally my brain is fussing about all this not-good stuff. The nice lady on 33rd St. says I have to figure out what to fill my brain with if I’m not being neurotic all the time, since it’ll leave a gap when I’m worrying less. Good thing that won’t be happening for awhile. Things are good, but not that good.
Megan