I should be doing my own (always restrained) version of a happy dance this week:
- FORTY & OUT is in audition stages for an audio book.
- I topped 75K on the follow-up story for Jadz and friends, and the Deadly Duo at Deadly Writes Publishing is eager to read the remainder.
- An agent has expressed tentative interest in my other, unrelated, crime novel with great series potential.
- Hubby has earned the prestigious new and awesome-sounding Cisco Cyber Security Specialist certification (one of many certs he holds – his business card can’t begin to list them all!).
- Daughter, S-in-law, Mini-Dude (our grandson), and the extended in-law clan returned safely in the midst of Northern Ohio/Southern Michigan’s blizzard after a long weekend in Arkansas visiting aging grandparents.
- Son won his first appeal (all that work in Moot Court and on Law Review paid off!).
We’re all healthy and happy and reasonably content.
But it’s February, so bleh.
It’s cold and grey and cold and slippery/muddy depending on the whims of a weather cycle which the forecasters and all their computer-assisted Doppler radar whatzits can’t seem to predicate with anything approaching reasonable accuracy. And did I mention it’s cold? I don’t think I’ll ever be warm again.
Since our early days together, Hubby and I have labeled February as the longest short month of the year. It drags. It depresses. It plods. It languishes. It demoralizes. It…you get the idea.
After NaNoWriMo 2014, my goal was to finish my WIP draft by the end of the year. That didn’t happen. My New Year’s resolution (always a bad idea) was to finish it by the end of January. That didn’t happen either. Now with February hanging around my neck like a millstone, I’m wondering if it will ever be finished.
The WIP, that is, not February.
February will never end.
How do you survive the winter doldrums?