Here it is January, and I'm trying to get motivated. I've completed part of a collection of poems about Africa, and want to finish more so I have enough to submit to a children's book publisher. But this isn't happening quickly.
I ask you, what is it about some people, they seem to have the energy of ten? And to subsist on five hours of sleep a night? That's not me. When I was seven years old, maybe. But definitely not now.
Oh well. I'm closer to my goal than I was a month ago. And I've researched publishers online and in the Writer's Market book. Step by step... I have a feeling Abraham and Sarah might have been wishing things moved more quickly when they set off for the promised land. How many years did they travel? I'll have to look it up, but it was longer than Sarah'd planned, I'm quite sure.
"To everything there is a season." Yeah.