Lacrymosa

What horrible news to wake up to this morning. Terrorists bombing London's buses and subways--just like in Spain. I really, really HATE terrorists. I believe there is a special part of Hell reserved just for them. UGH.

I didn't get any writing done--was busy doing too much research yesterday. And I had to finish reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, to brush up for the new book coming out next Friday. I am so dang excited. Hubby told me I could read it first this time, because he read it first last time--so does that mean I'll have to wait to read Book Seven? I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. I might have to push him off that bridge so I can read it first...(oh who said that!)

Hubby is out of town, catching his plane as I write--he and his four other siblings are surprising their parents for their 40th anniversary. They even (well, scratch "they,"-- I did all the hard work) put together an anniversary video--I chose the songs "100 years" by Five for Fighting, "Picture Book" by The Kinks and Hubby picked another song called "Best years of our lives" by some group I can't remember the name. We watched the preliminary dvd last night, and bawled our eyes out. Even our kids were bawling. It's amazing how time flies. Life truly is short.

I got a rejection yesterday, so I did the "feeling like crap" thing for a few hours and ate some chocolate and I'm back to normal. What gets me about every rejection these days, is they are always Sooooo close, but just "not quite."
The editor tells me they really enjoy my story and my writing and my literary style and yadda yadda yadda, but they still reject it. One editor went so far as to tell me she loved it, ask for revisions, and then do a complete about-face and reject it. (That was hard, let me tell you, to come so close like that.) My agent, bless him, is plugging away, and it's already in the hands of another editor. He likes to do one submission at at time, which is fine with me.

I keep reminding myself that my time will come. Heck, I'm only in my 30's. My time will come. Maybe I'll be 90 and have no teeth and be all alone in my retirement home, but it WILL happen for me, dammit.

Whew. I guess it won't happen unless I get some writing done...