July 23: Another rejection letter to add to the pile. Apparently my opening is trite and overused. I throw myself into another round of revision.

 

July 25: Work on my book is proving too taxing, so I have begun a major kitchen renovation, to wit: alphabetizing the spices.

 

July 26: Both projects are hopelessly mired in creative quagmires. Does cumin come before coriander? Perhaps I was never meant to be a writer, or to have a neat spice rack. Must finish one project before beginning a new one.

 

July 27: The liquor cabinet would be more functional if, appended to each bottle, was an example of its use in a drink. I have thrown myself into this task with great gusto, and can think of nothing else.

 

July 28: The postman delivers a gut-punch to my self-esteem, disguised as a letter rejecting my book for its thin plot.

 

August 12: The liquor cabinet project, in a sense, is completed. I drank the entire contents, and threw the empty bottles at the neighbor’s cat.

 

August 28: At last! A breakthrough in my book. I dreamed up the most brilliant plot twist for the ending. And this is the kicker – it’s a zephyr. The manuscript is en-route to a reputable publishing house. I shall try to keep my hopes in check, but this feels like a winner.

 

September 1: My nerves are a jangle of startled chickens, so the kitchen must suffer another renovation. This time, I’m alphabetizing the appliances.

 

September 2: Have a long row with the plumber when I explain the sink must go on the other side of the refrigerator. Blows are exchanged.

 

September 10: Joy! My book has been accepted, with the provision that I agree to some minor edits.

 

September 11: Those idiots want me to introduce the zephyr in the first chapter! Don’t they realize it’s a dictionary?

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