I hadn’t spent much time dwelling on the significance of March until I awakened this morning and it was here. It was chilly and damp after a night of hard, sexy rain and I had slept with my bedroom windows open.
A break from the norm as of late, I hopped out of bed with a bit of energy, breezed through the morning routine, dropped the boy off at school and drove to work reflecting on the oddness of the sky. Half was still a black cloud and the other half the promise of a lovely Spring day.
I snapped a picture.
It was about an hour later that I remembered that this is the month I am set to resubmit a proposal for an erotic anthology, as this particular publishing house will begin looking at proposals again. My last few exchanges with one of the editors were very promising and I had begun working on the proposal a while ago. And with a gust, my excitement about the project returned.
It was a welcome feeling after weeks of feeling absolutely no umph creatively, feeling like it didn’t matter if I ever picked up a pen again, but just like that, here I am, ready, excited, ready to open those files and… do something.
I’ve revamped the CV, changed up the call for submissions and I’m ready to go. I’m trying not to think too much on current irons in the fire and just be patient and occupy my time and my mind with things that will nurture my creativity, not stall it.
Yeah, good luck to me with that.