Aching

I wish I could say I'm busy writing like a mad dog these days ... but the truth is, my head is full of nothing but snot. I've come down with the cold of the century. Blowing, sneezing, fever, headache, aches and pains ... but each day I get a little better. I'm blogging today. That's something, at least.

During this time of chicken soup, boxes of Kleenex, and bags of cough drops--I've spent time reading and catching up on ideas surrounding my next book project. Televenge is still up for grabs. We're hoping to hear something soon, at least after the Holidays ... as to an agent and publisher. But for now, it remains in my computer. Waiting.

I must say that waiting is not one of my favorite things to do. Not a strength I attest to. I hear so many great stories of successes and failures. Televenge will be published, that much I know ... how and when ... is anybodys guess. There's more than one way to skin a cat, my dad says. It'll get published.

It's a ripping great story. Told from the inside out. It's well written, clean, and carries a message for the ages. A message of survival for those who have been offered little. Those who want to believe in God. Those who have been rejected, wronged, and left with nothing. It's powerful. It's eye-opening. And it's unpublished. So I'm aching. From this damn cold and from the fact this manuscript needs to find a home.

Ah, well. Faith. Something I write about, attest to. It's time to hang on to some of it. Right?

For now I think I'll put on a cup of tea, curl up in a blanket, and read. I'm starting Lisa Tucker's One Upon A Day. I pray colds and flu stay away from your door this winter.

Blessings to you and yours.