“Get five rejections in a day… Making rejection a goal also takes some of the sting out of it.”
- Carolyn Cutler
Someone needs to tell the songbirds it’s still winter, but it won’t be me. I’m enjoying their arias too much. They accompanied me on my way to the gym today, pealing and burbling through the crisp, -8 Celcius air. I walked on and off the sidewalk, nipping around the four-foot-high frozen-solid snowbanks lining the roads, in my efforts to avoid the one icy patch I’m destined to fall upon. I’m pleased to report I haven’t yet found it. Maybe I won’t this year.
I finished knitting Sock the First, and am inordinately pleased with myself. It’s a fine sock, red and brown stripes not of my doing, but of the clever yarn manufacturer’s. The ribbing is a bit loose and there are a few mystery holes, but it seems to fit. Sock the Second is well under way, and is turning out to be rather more svelte, which means I must be finding my groove with the business of knitting with four needles. And it may well mean Sock One becomes also Sock Three, if I can stand to rip it out and knit it all over again, following the philosophy of Writing is Rewriting, ie Knitting is Reknitting.
This week’s submissions have been most interesting, including a couple of stories sent to an anthology looking for stories written about the sea. Given that the working title of my short story collection is – ahem - Harbour View, this one grabbed my attention. Another story went off to the UK to a print publication that supplies London Underground commuters with reading material – a considerable readership, I should think, looking for a literary diversion to brighten up the ride to work. What a great idea.
It feels good to get my hands on my stories and push them out the door to the ring of birdsong in the cold. They’re quite good, I think. The stories, that is. As is the sock.