Good morning world. How was your long weekend? Good I hope. Mine was alright. I have started dog-sitting and will be for the next fortnight. I love the pooch to pieces, but I really do miss my kitties.
The temperature outside is bordering on tropical. I love it! It is making me a little homesick, though. That's alright, my sister is coming up for a visit next month. That's almost as good as going home. Trying to organise some adventures with her. Can't wait!
My knee is the foulest colour of purple-ish-black that anyone might hope to witness. Like how I just slipped that in there? In any case, I have no one to blame but myself. I was trying to block a round-house (for those not in the know, that's done by raising the knee and lowering the elbow to just inside the knee and bracing for impact). Instead of placing my elbow on the inside of my knee, I smashed it right down onto my knee. It hurt a little bit at the time. However, the pain to bruising ratio is completely off. It didn't hurt so badly that it warrants a bruise that spreads over my entire knee-cap. It's taking it's sweet time to go away too. Luckily, I don't normally wear shorts, so no major wardrobe change is necessary. Also luckily, I don't have any doctor's appointments in the near future. I swear, if one more doctor hands me a card for a counsellor, I'll scream!
In other news, because I took the long weekend off to do things like play with the dog and take myself out to the movies, I didn't do any writing whatsoever. I have some major catching up to do. Luckily, the break provided me with a really neat short story idea. If I can get myself into gear, I might have it all down today. As it is, my project is coming along pretty well. You can see my progress on the right hand side of this blog, if you're really keen on it.
More on the writing news, another rejection came through yesterday afternoon. I'm going to spend some time waxing lyrical on why rejections bug me so much. I know it's nothing personal, and I know it's all a matter of opinion, and I know all authors went through this before being picked up by a publisher. I know all that, and though I understand that you mean well, I do not need to be reminded of that. Any rejection hurts, even when you try to brush it off, and even if you pretend it doesn't, it still hurts. And here's why:
I'm not a great beauty. I never was. I'm not saying I'm ugly, mind, but I'm not especially beautiful (keep the pity compliments to yourself, if you please. They make me suspicious). Though I might pretend otherwise, I'm not especially intelligent either. Sure I can understand and use big words, but an expansive vocabulary is not a sign of intelligence. Don't worry, many people make that mistake.
The one thing I do possess is imagination, and the ability to translate the bizarre goings-on in my head into prose on paper.
When the one thing you feel you have to offer the world is continually turned aside, whatever the reason, it hurts. It hurts no matter how much you brace yourself.
I have a mountain of armour wrapped around my heart, but all that does is prevent the barbs from drawing blood. There is still a fair amount of bruising.... and it seems I've been taking a beating of late.
Don't worry, I haven't given up. I'm excessively stubborn and sometimes childishly spiteful (I'm working on improving my temperament... sort of). I'll stubbornly keep at it even if my belief in my ability crumbles into a smoking pile of rubble, if only out of spite. As it is now, I still believe that I can write and that I should write. It was an unexpected career choice for me, but one I am too passionate about to give away easily.
On that note, I have breakfast that needs eating and writing that needs doing.
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