It Isn't Drivel After All!
Just heard from my agent that she's halfway through Asha Means Hope and that she loves it. Whew! That's encouragement to me as I'm trying to produce 3000-4000 words on Sparrow's story every writing day. I am planning a spa-like December of serenity to reward myself for this autumn's intensity. But do I want a different vocation? Not on your life. After years of rejections, I'm not complaining about having to fulfill contracts and submit manuscripts to waiting editors. If only I can make it to December 1 without bleeding, chewed-up cuticles. The nails are gone now, I had to quit gum because my jaw kept popping out of socket, and conseqently, the oral fixation that accompanies hard work needs to find a new source. Anyboy want to suggest a healthier option than chomping on my own skin?