This is the name of a book that I put into the 3rd grade reading anthology when I was still working at McGraw-Hill. I really liked the book, if not the illustrations. If you get a chance, pick it up and read it to your favorite school-aged kid or teacher. They’ll love it.
The kids got out just fine this morning. And now I’m left alone for a few hours to get started on a new novel I’ve been thinking of. But so far, I’ve managed to email my friends, put up pictures on Facebook, and write this.
The prospect of starting something new is frightening. I have no idea how it’s going to go. I’m still worried over my last attempts at writing. As of Friday, my agent has still not heard back about the manuscript we sent out in June, and my first novel has yet to earn out its advance, according to a statement I received this weekend. Forget about the devastating round of nos I got last year. But of course, this is the job. You want to be a writer, you have to roll with the punches. How does one roll with punches? Shouldn’t one bob and weave with punches?
Who knows? Enough procrastinating. Jitters be damned. Here I go.