Um, let me explain.
After a bunch of family time in Alabama, I returned to Florida
yesterday (hence the absurd lateness of my post Monday) to find my wee little
garden partying with a host of uninvited weeds. (Seven inches of rain in one
day will do that to even the most upstanding of flowerbeds and citrus patches.)
As for the cowering part of my opening statement, I am considering
scraping my pennies together and bribing the Manuscript to write itself. The
100k mainstreamer has grown remarkably daunting in its month of merry
abandonment.
Frankly, I don’t even know how to approach the thing.
The whole “charging straight ahead with a rallying roar and mighty pen
poised to the heavens” would be the preferred strategy but tell that to my
suddenly watery knees.
So, I face the beast today with no game-plan whatsoever.
Sorry to disappoint, but even a gal with 17 novels under her belt still
has her cowering-in-the-weeds moments.
Hmm… maybe a barrage of spitballs from behind the dandelion sprouts
would work?
I’ll let you know.
Until tomorrow…
Your ever-brave and competent Chloe
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