I received an email from an editor a little while ago. She said the piece I submitted “holds promise,” and/or “has merit,” but she didn’t think it was quite right for her publication at this time.
There was a stand of rosebushes at the end of the lake, in furious bloom. The dark pink kind with yellow centers, like the ones you planted at home. Their sweet scent was thick on the breeze.
I broke last night.
For the last seven months I have indulged myself a brief moment of tears every couple of days, but last night my whole body cracked into several pieces. I came as close to a panic attack as I ever have in my life. I was sure my heart would stop at any moment and I would cease to exist.
This is a reminder that it’s not too late.
Remember the minutes, the hours and the days will pass whether you do “that thing” or not. It is the moment by moment choices we make that move us forward.
A man doesn’t plant a tree for himself. He plants it for posterity—Alexander Smith. Earlier today, Glad Tidings church in Moncton, New Brunswick, dedicated a green space on its property to the memory of three fallen RCMP officers killed in the line of duty June 4, 2014. They were killed by a lone gunman in the city’s north end, where the church is situated.
According to my sixteen year old daughter, who happens to be an avid fiction reader, only “Lame-o’s” read the end of the book first. So Mom is a Lame-o.
Since last I wrote about my journey into self-promotion on January 25, my number of Twitter followers has grown from 342 to 723. But I’m following 1288. So far, most of the people who have followed me (after I followed them) are those likeminded souls who are also selling indie books.
Many, many books.