I planted cabbage and beets last fall with the hope of winter gardening. I had visions of eating fresh greens in January, dutifully wiping away the snow to water. Then reality set in, life became hectic, I never got my hoops put up and thought all was lost. This afternoon showed me how wrong I was. There are at least eight plants trying to grow, having come up as the snow melted away.
This really relates to how I feel about writing. As expected, I received another rejection today (the one who hadn't gotten back to me in over twenty weeks, she was very nice about it, though). Mixing this disappointment with the fact that I'm struggling to find time to blog, outline, write and garden while still being a good wife and mother who works full-time makes me reconsider if it's really worth all the frustration. But while on my knees, in the dirt, humbling discussing things with my Father in Heaven, he sent me a little miracle in the form of bok choy. It was a reminder that sometimes our efforts grow later and to have patience, the fruit of our labors will appear when we least expect them.
And so I'm finishing compiling the list for the next round of queries. I'm also taking a fresh look at my book. Are the first five pages compelling? Are there any edits I missed? Does the story drag anywhere? I'm also working on my proposal, probably the area that needs the most revising. Maybe one day I'll reap the rewards of this labor of love.