For two hours I was tempted to pre-empt the remainder of editing and participate in the current madhouse that is #PitMad.
I’m waiting on two more beta readers, my editor, my brothers review, and by husband’s review.
I wanted so badly to be able to submit something tomorrow and see what happens. I even came up with my 140 character pitch as well as an extended one.
I thought about it late into the night and I just decided not to do it right now. My query letter isn’t ready. I have to wait and see what my Beta readers have to say. I want this to be the best it can be for presenting, even if that means I have to wait until January to submit.
In the meantime I’ll read through it again and work on the next in the series.
I am able to give thanks this year for many things. I’m thankful for my girls. I’m thankful my family is healthy and my girls are learning every day in school. I’m thankful for the myriad of learning opportunities that engulfed all of us this year.
I’m thankful for you who read this. For taking the time to find out what I have to say. I have lots of stories, both funny and sad, and everything in between that I’ll share here in this space.
It’s been a year of personal growth for me. I’m not who I was in January and I’m curious to see what happens as 2020 closes and 2021 opens.
The holidays are here and, I for one, am looking forward to Santa coming. I will be peaking through the blinds on Christmas Eve scanning the night sky looking for Rudolph’s red nose.
My husband always laughs at me at this time of the year. He grew up not being big on Christmas, which meant not a whole lot of Christmas music. This is unfathomable to me. In my house Christmas was always a big deal and my parents went all out for the holidays which meant my brothers and I got to reap the rewards.
There is one Christmas I remember vividly. It was actually before Christmas, but it was our trip to get our Christmas tree. There was a local place called, Frank’s Nursery. I close my eyes and see myself, and my brother, standing in the store; and over the speakers you could hear Perry Como crooning, “Silver Bells.” Ugh. Just thinking about it brings tears to my eyes. That memory is so vivid and so real. Even these 30 odd years later.
Do you ever hear people complain about how Christmas merchandise gets pushed out earlier and earlier every year? I admit, I used to be one of those complainers. Last year, I realized something else. What if instead of it being about consumerism, it was about trying to become little again. What if it’s about trying to recapture those warm holiday feelings we had as a child?
Just for once being able to feel the way we did when someone else took care of us. When someone else bought our toys and helped as we put them together? When we spent Christmas Eve staring out at the night sky in hopes of a glimpse of Santa and Rudolph? What about that feeling of trying to stay up and rousing ourselves at every noise? OR how about going in and waking your sibling before the sun is even up because you can’t sleep anymore?
I, for one, start playing Christmas music in August. It brings me a sense of calm and rightness with the world. It reminds me when it’s hot outside, which I detest, that good things are on their way. That pretty soon I’ll be preparing for Thanksgiving, and then Christmas, and then New Years.
Now, it’s time for me to prepare dinner, and I need to queue up, “The Carpenter’s Christmas” album.