I think Hobkin's beginning to feel the stirrings of Spring Fever. He's been extra frisky. And yesterday he was intent upon wrestling my arm into submission. While my obstreperous limb was being thrashed, I took a picture of the fierce mêlée. I think Hobkin was offended by the flash. Or maybe it was my giggling.
After the excitement, Hobkin was all tuckered out, of course, and crashed on Matthew's lap:
Received a "I sincerely regret that we are unable to accept . . ." pass on my middle-grade novel from Cricket Books. It was very encouraging, as rejections go, with lots of praise and suggestions for other markets, but still, this one hit me really hard. I had high hopes for placing it with them.
Received the edits for "The King of Rabbits and Moon Lake" in the same envelope as the rejection. Will look them over after I indulge in some chocolate therapy.
Words: 100. Too disheartened to crank out more. Did the bare minimum and called it quits.
Club 100 for Writers