Did anybody notice I didn't post last week? Please say yes.
Anyway, I had a pity party last week. I believe everyone is allowed one of those once in a while. As long as you don't make a habit of it and become a real Debbie Downer.
Why was I feeling sorry for myself? Several reasons. I received my second rejection letter for Beyond the Horizon. I know that's nothing compared to other writers. We've all heard the story of JK Rowling. And "The Help" was rejected about 60 times. Maybe after the 10th or 20th one I won't feel so bad about the process. Of course all my writer friends congratulated me for at least sending it out there. Whoopee!
Then the weather turned to crap. Friday we had 35 degrees and snow and sleet. Why should that get me down. I HATE THAT STUFF. And to add insult to injury, our work turned off the heat earlier in the week. I literally froze to death at my desk. Turtle neck, sweater, coat and a blanket over my legs. I was not a happy camper.
And probably the most deciding factor in my mood - I'd let my Prozac run out for about 3 days. Not a good idea. My co-workers told me in no uncertain terms to never let that happen again.
But, I'm on the rebound. I'm researching agents and publishing houses and I've got my book with a Beta reader for some feedback. I got my prescription re-filled and the weather has gotten better. And here I am writing a new post.
Here's to hoping when your pity party arrives, it doesn't last long and when you come out the other side, you have re-newed energy and purpose.