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The Summer Cold

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For 2 weeks, I’ve been in a fistfight with – the Summer Cold.

 

Related to the Common Cold of Winter months (somehow). The Summer Cold has power and it wields it mightily. For weeks. Precious Summer weeks.

I can attest to its power.

 

Two Saturdays ago, I blamed it on pollen. HAHA

Chattanooga, TN has the highest pollen index (yes, that’s a real thing) in the nation. And, I’m from southern Kentucky where pollen begats more pollen and the bees even pray for release. But, I blamed pollen. Then, I blamed Chattanooga. Said, “Aw, it’ll go away when it rains.”

Pshaw. It didn’t go away. And, I spent the better part of last Saturday, trying to walk.

My highlight (or lowlight) was a BP gas station.

I had a DVD in my possession and it was due back at a Redbox ASAP. So, I saw the red, metal tube in my periphery, and decided to pull over for gas and return the disc.

I stepped out of the vehicle and a nearby temperature gauge read 96 or something. The sweat beaded on my forehead. My nostrils were red from paper towels, friction. I managed to lift the gas lever, swipe the card, push Unleaded 87. Then, when the tank clicked full, I felt my sore nose again, and my head – close to spontaneous combustion.

I looked longingly towards the Redbox–a distance of only 100 feet–and said to myself, Feet, you can do this, and I sneezed. I stopped dead in my tracks. It’s one of the few times I considered succumbing to an ailment and I’ve had a few (heart surgery, diabetes). But, the feet kept moving somehow. The will to live.

I pushed ‘Return Movie’ and let the machine do its retrieval. For a second, I hallucinated that it struggled in the 100-degree blazes to take the movie from my clammy hands. It chug-chug-chugged but eventually clasped the disc and safely tucked it away, inside its metal heart.

I turned and realized I’d forgotten my shades at home, my vampire moment was coming to fruition. A sunburn could happen in a matter of seconds. But, I found my car’s door. I slid into the seat and clung to its fabric as it did mine. I pulled onto the highway without looking either direction and struggled to locate a Kleenex, somewhere anywhere.

To my surprise (and thanks to God), the vehicle found its way home. I was a happy returnee. Saturday bled into Sunday and now, the next Friday. I believe, with my whole heart, Summer Colds are genuine clingers.

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Who Do I Belong To?

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The song is called “To Sand We Return,” and it’s a favorite of mine. Let the words pour over your soul today. Listen to see what God says to you through it. I pray it reaches you as it does me.
To Sand We Return –

 

Cowering man, a legion of no ones call
Bet it all
Covenant kill, he points to the heavens
Bare with blank stares

Beckoning search in self for his answer
Reckoning, purge, the great fall, the cancer
Settlement comes in wages now he is
Shattered, broke, and all alone

We’ve lost all our control
Our faces fall to the ground
We’re powerless to your voice
Surrender to the sound

What’ll it take to prove our decision’s wrong
Will we fall?
Alone in ourselves there nothing but chaos
Fear end it here

‘Til we concede to drink from the endless
The desert we find ourselves in is hopeless
‘Til we submit and let go the control
We will always be alone

We’ve lost all our control
Our faces fall to the ground
We’re powerless to your voice
Surrender to the sound

We’ve lost all our control
Our faces fall to the ground
And no longer seeming
So shattered, broke and all alone

Who do I belong to?
Not earth, not world
Not evil, not mortals
Not wretches, not horrors

Who do I belong to?
Unchanging, unbreaking
Unfailing, creator
Immortal, eternal

We’ve lost all our control
Our faces fall to the ground
We’re powerless to your voice
Surrender to the sound

We’ve lost all our control
Our faces fall to the ground
We’re powerless to your voice
Surrender to the sound

Who do I belong to?
Not earth, not world
(Surrender to the sound)
Not evil, not mortals
Not wretches, not horrors
(Surrender to the sound)

 

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New Publication.

LOBSTER MEAT IS SWEET –

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(artwork representing this story by Christine Stoddard, 2015, now on physical display in Washington, DC).

Hey guys & gals! My new story “Lobster Meat is Sweet” is now available for reading on Story Shack Magazine here. Check it out and let me know what you think. Love y’all! Thanks for reading my stories and supporting my insanity. God bless you this week.

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Wish I Knew His Name.

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My wife and I vacationed recently. HAVE I TOLD YOU HOW MUCH I LOVE VACATION? Sorry, I’m not screaming AT you…just TO you out of excitement. Yesterday, we made it back from a 2-week hiatus at the Florida Gulf Coast and then a couple’s cruise.

Now, let me tell you one story that sticks out most clearly in my mind. You’re reading this thinking…I don’t want to hear about the Caribbean, or, Brian’s encounters with sharks, but I promise this is that “other” experience abroad. Just follow along. It goes like this…

We arrived at Port Canaveral on July 4th (mid-afternoon) to check-in at the Radisson. I stand in-line and await my turn. There’s an Asian American man of medium build wrestling with a couple of youngsters (I assume they are his), and he’s sweating profusely. The attendant helps him check-in, and he departs with the anxious Lilliputians in tow.

I check us into the hotel. We rest. We eat Subway. Nothing too glamorous here. (Are you still with me?)

We awake on July 5th, after having slept a restful, fireworks bombarded night. I check us out of the Radisson. We are shuttled to Port Canaveral and our new home, a big ship.

It’s ginormous, my wife says. It’s magnificent, I say. The embarkation goes smoothly. We set sail at 5pmish EST. We dine at 6pm. The ship is like a city. You forget you’re moving, plowing towards Caribbean-filled air at 21 nautical knots.

Then, I spot the same Asian American man wrestling with two elderly folks at the Schooner Bar on deck 4. Where have the two younger rapscallions gone? I wonder. He’s yapping at the two elderly folks, and I know he’s trying to get to dinner just like we are. It’s a big ship, I tell myself again. Plenty of room to not be disturbed. 15 stories. C’mon. Maybe I should just introduce myself and make it less weird? I don’t, but move into the dining hall and feast on salmon.

Day 2–a day at sea.

We lounge on the top deck, my wife and I. I plant my face in a waterfall of cascading agua and threaten to not remove my head until we arrive in Haiti. Leah humors me, says “You’ll drown.”

Again, I see the man with the two young kids sitting across from us on the 11th floor, the sunbathing deck. Here, I also see the two elderly folks with him. At the Solarium bar, I see him order a drink. Still, it’s gone too far for introductions. I chalk it up as “we just happen to travel in the same circles” and laugh it off.

Have you ever wondered how you and someone else could literally travel in the same circles? Even at sea on a boat that’s colossal in size?

Day 3–Labadee, Haiti. We dock. We swim on a beach. The same Asian American man walks in front of our chairs 7-10 times in the course of our 2 hours there. I kid you not!

Day 4–Falmouth, Jamaica. We dock. Leah shops. I shop. We board the boat quickly. Jamaica isn’t a place to linger, unless you have a shore excursion. (I do not see the man, the kids, or the grandparents, I assume are his.)

Day 5–Cozumel, Mexico. We dock. The family leaves the ship right in front of us. We see them in the shops. I spot them walking past Carl’s Jr. (Yes, that’s the same franchise as Hardee’s, but with a different name. And, yes. There’s a random one in Mexico. And, yes again. They do serve the Loaded Omelet Biscuit in Mexico as well.) Leah says innocently, “Where have we seen them before?”

I remain silent. Shocked that this phenomenon has happened and equally so that no one else is noticing it but me. Does God want me to talk to this man or what? Wow!

Then, Day 6–day at sea. We see him, his family. It’s gone too far to strike up a conversation at this point. On a ship with 3,000+ guests there’s no way to fathom how I’d strike up a conversation at this point without seeming touched. It would go something like, “So, I’ve seen you. I know, you’ve seen me. Where are you from?”

And silence would follow. He just wants to enjoy his vacation. I’m enjoying mine, I say to myself. Just let sleeping dogs lie.

Day 7 arrives–sadly. The debarkation. We are one of the few EARLY ones that choose to lug our bags off before the maddening crowd awakes. I spot a trio of dolphins in Port Canaveral. Leah says, “There must be a lot of fish nearby.” I agree. Then, the same man with his family marches past me in the line, and he’s sweating again. The kids are a bit calmer at 6:30am–maybe just grumpy now. The grandparents are stoically staring out at the sea. The soon-forgotten trip is in everyone’s mind.

But, I don’t forget anything yet, because we are suddenly shuttled back to the Radisson parking lot. Leah offers to drive, and we take a different road northwest towards Chattanooga. This one offers countless toll roads. We stop 5+ times and shell out the extravagant payments that keep Florida highways looking so pristine. We try to make it around Disney, Orlando, the mice infestation. We succeed. And, when we’ve finally struck highways with numbers we recognize, Leah exhales and decides to stop at a Dunkin Donuts. When we exit, I run to the restroom like one of those mad children from earlier. Leah follows behind me. The ladies room is unoccupied. We recognize a sign on the men’s room which reads “Please knock before entering…Door doesn’t lock!” She laughs at me and ducks into the women’s room. I hesitantly knock on the door, where the wood is off-colored, because so many other fists have knocked before. I wait. No answer. I call out, “Anybody in there?” Nothing. So, I throw open the door and…

Who do you think should be squatting there?

Yep. You guessed it! The same man from our previous jaunt across the southwestern Caribbean. The same man of 9 days previously! The two wild children were in the lobby with the grandparents, I guessed. It was just he and I. I said, “Oh, I’m ssss-so–ssorry!” and slammed the door shut on his bewildered face.

He mumbled, “Aaaaghhh!” and tried to block his face from view. I shut the door so quickly, his face hadn’t registered with me yet. I was too focused on the embarrassment from seeing another grown man indisposed. But, the seconds ticked by as the door remained closed. I heard a flush. I thought about the previous 9 days.

“No way?!” I mutter under my breath, stifling a laugh.

A lady behind me says, “Don’t you just wish you could just clear those images from your head?”

She was really funny. We both cracked up, but I tried to keep my voice down, because he was literally on the other side of the door. My doppelganger of sorts. We traveled the exact same circles and now we were in a random Dunkin bathroom in southern Georgia at 10am or so after all of our time together…and I still didn’t know his name.

He exited and laughed nervously with us.

I said, “I’m sorry about that.”

He waves it off with a smile, says, “The sign clearly reads that the lock doesn’t work. It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault,” and he laughs again.

I think I should say, “Hey. I know you from somewhere,” but I know it’ll open a can of awkward worms. Over a week’s worth.

He doesn’t admit our connection either, but marches to the front, orders, and collects his family.

What if we lived in the same exact city and didn’t know it? Pretty odd, huh? How many people have the same circles and just don’t know it? Maybe it takes a 9-day voyage to realize it? I still don’t know his or his family’s name. But, I imagine they live right here in southeastern TN alongside me.

We made it back to our apartment last night, and I still have an odd mix of vertigo and disorientation going on inside my head. The realization that this man and I were so similar is unnerving. He’s out there, and he’s busy. I can only imagine that if we ever have children, and we go on another trip like this, and my folks come with us, I’ll be sweating and running around exactly like he was.

I just hope I’m not trying to use a Dunkin Donuts’ bathroom without a lock and laughing off the intruders as they enter my brief bit of solitude.

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What God says about What we Can Handle.

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Question:

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Will God give us more than we can handle?

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Truthfully…
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One of the most misunderstood attributes of God is that He wants us to live life care-free. (So much for my Ferris Bueller quest, I guess. ChickaChick-oww.)

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3 examples of people being overwhelmed–

1.) Moses
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Exodus 4:10-13 (ESV)
—————
But Moses said to the Lord, “Oh, my Lord, I am not eloquent, either in the past or since you have spoken to your servant, but I am slow of speech and of tongue.”
Then the Lord said to him, “Who has made man’s mouth? Who makes him mute, or deaf, or seeing, or blind? Is it not I, the Lord?
Now therefore go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you shall speak.”
But he said, “Oh, my Lord, please send someone else.”

2.) David
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Psalm 38:4-8 (ESV)
—————
For my iniquities have gone over my head; like a heavy burden, they are too heavy for me.
My wounds stink and fester because of my foolishness,
I am utterly bowed down and prostrate; all the day I go about mourning.
For my sides are filled with burning, and there is no soundness in my flesh.
I am feeble and crushed; I groan because of the tumult of my heart.

3.) Jesus
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Mark 14:32-36 (ESV)
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And they went to a place called Gethsemane. And he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.”
And he took with him Peter and James and John, and began to be greatly distressed and troubled.
And he said to them, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death. Remain here and watch.”
And going a little farther, he fell on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him.
And he said, “Abba, Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.”

In other words…
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God consistently gives overwhelming burdens to those whom He loves.

What does it really mean?
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1 Corinthians 10:1-14 (ESV)
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For I do not want you to be unaware, brothers, that our fathers were all under the cloud, and all passed through the sea,
and all were baptized into Moses in the cloud and in the sea,
and all ate the same spiritual food,
and all drank the same spiritual drink. For they drank from the spiritual Rock that followed them, and the Rock was Christ.
Nevertheless, with most of them God was not pleased, for they were overthrown in the wilderness.
Now these things took place as examples for us, that we might not desire evil as they did.
Do not be idolaters as some of them were; as it is written, “The people sat down to eat and drink and rose up to play.”
We must not indulge in sexual immorality as some of them did, and twenty-three thousand fell in a single day.
We must not put Christ to the test, as some of them did and were destroyed by serpents,
nor grumble, as some of them did and were destroyed by the Destroyer.
Now these things happened to them as an example, but they were written down for our instruction, on whom the end of the ages has come.
Therefore let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall.
No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.
Therefore, my beloved, flee from idolatry.

In other words…
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Followers of Jesus do not have to question whether God is real. BUT…Followers of Jesus will be given more than they can handle…consistently.

Why does God give you more than you can handle?
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To strengthen our faith and make you whole.

To be whole.
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James 1:2-4 (ESV)
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Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds,
for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.
And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.

Why does God give you more than you can handle?

3 REASONS
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To encourage us to move
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To teach us to depend on a strength other than our own.
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To experience His power.

Call on Him…
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Psalm 145:18 (ESV)
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The Lord is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth.

Truthfully…
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God is more interested in our faithfulness than our comfort.

Truthfully…
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God is more interested in us demonstrating His glory than trying to pretend like everything is ok.

Bottom Line…
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Will God give us more than we can handle? Most definitely!
And once we realize why, we will be forever grateful.

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One-Year Anniversary of “Baptisms & Dogs: Stories”!!

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It’s been a year since its debut! The story collection I never imagined would see daylight..let alone printing presses. (It went to WASHINGTON, DC, at one point, Thanks to Matt Smith and the Marine Barracks, and their private library there. I never imagined real heroes would be reading it. EVER!) It’s been a crazy process, and I admit it’s been a BIG learning curve. From where to submit stories to what types of writing conferences to attend, I’ve learned A TON. And, I still feel like a novice. 🙂

Thanks to Leah for remaining patient with my trips to South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, and coffee shops around Chattanooga. I’ve tried to motivate her with, “Hey, one of the future novels will take place in the fictional town of Seton, Kentucky.” I’m not sure she’s convinced, but if you see her, tell her to give it a chance in 2015, 2016, 2017, etc. How ever long it takes, I guess. (*insert nervous laughter*)

Thanks to Leah, Nathan Davis, and Lindsey Frantz for taking a look at this new idea. It consumed a good chunk of 2014-2015, and it’s still undergoing changes, but I’m optimistic to do something with it before the year’s end. While my tentative title isn’t nearly as clever as Russell Helm’s Sprinkle Cheese (to be released later this fall as The Ground Catches Everything), I still hope you consider reading my work, Beef Jerky for All, when it’s published.

Similarly, the 2015-2016 (and newest) project is underway and gaining some steam. It doesn’t have a witty title yet. (It’s the Seton, KY revisiting…and I hope to complete its first draft this summer. We can all make Christmas wish lists, right?)

I write all of this to say, Thank you again for the support–lovely readers. Readers of this blog. Readers of anything I’ve sat down to try and muster up the courage to complete. Prayers appreciated for the journey ahead. It’s exciting and daunting all at once. Like a deep dish, meat lover’s pizza from La Rosa’s. It’s beautiful and scary all at once. You have to dig in and burn the roof of your mouth. Because you know…it’s worth it.

 

God bless you this week!

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Permanency.

The world changes minute-by-minute. Man-made advancements and technological marvels rise. The earth itself is always subjected to freeways, turnpikes, & sludge. Here’s a little comfort in knowing nature’s resiliency through it all–

 

river

 

“Men may dam it and say that they have made a lake but it will

still

be a river.

It will keep its nature and bide its time,

like a caged animal alert for the slightest opening.

In time,

it will have its way;

the dam, like the ancient cliffs,

will be carried away…

piecemeal…

in the currents.”

 

–Wendell Berry

 

(Beautiful imagery for your Wednesday from the greatest poet living today!)

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FUN things to do on your anniversary!

 

Here are ‘7 Things’ I thank God my wife and I were able to do last weekend for our 7-year anniversary:

 

1.) Ride a Segway like a boss in Franklin, TN. (As opposed to riding a segway like this.)

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2.) See Leah sit in the biggest chair East of the Mississippi

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3.) Go to a concert featuring bands neither of us had ever heard of (really)…

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4.) Find a Wingstop in a random shopping center in Nashville TN.

o(W-I-N-G-S-T-O-P is the best!!)

 

5.) Work out TOGETHER after 1.5 days of non-stop travel.

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6.) Celebrate with dinner together in Chattanooga!

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7.) Take a walk after dinner (and ask a stranger to snap your picture). Yes. A picture together. Imagine that. A brief reprieve from the never-ending single person poses that we do as couples. 🙂 The gentleman who snapped ours was kind enough to ask “Portrait or landscape?”

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7 FUN things to-do on your anniversary! (Franklin -> Nashville -> Chattanooga)

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4 Ingredients for Writing.

Tap into your inner Emiril Lagasse for a second. Think about the kitchen as a workspace. Big chef’s hat and all. Emeril (or, any chef) takes his/her cooking space seriously and might involuntarily throw out phrases like “BAM!” and “Kick it up a notch!”

Now, think about your favorite recipe.

Got one in mind?

Mine is always the same, always delicious: Blackberry Cobbler.

cobbler

  • 1 cup flour
  • 1 cup sugar
  • 1 stick butter
  • 1 ½ teaspoons baking powder
  • 1 cup 2% milk
  • 1 pint blackberries

 

Now, Think about the steps required to make something that delicious. And, then transfer that kitchen-etiquette onto YOUR process for doing something else you love (mine’s writing).

For example:

There are steps to follow at your writing desk, equipment that must be used, and documents to prepare in a certain order that (believe it or not) are very similar to what it takes to make the almighty cobbler.

Here are 4 of my “Go-To” Writing ingredients (followed in this order below):

1. Be intentional in setting aside a “quiet” space (Not like this one, it’s clickable and complete with strobe lights.)

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2. Don’t let obstacles stop you from picking up the pen!

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3. Set a goal (word count, 500 words+) before you can quit!

575761 (love this one, click it!)

 

4. Get consumed by the endeavor!

558407 (Maybe not this much)

 

5. Return to “life” only after the goal is met!

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**These 4 items give me direction in giving my labor of love the proper amount of discipline it deserves. I hope it helps you in yours this week.

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5 Phases of Writing.

5 PHASES OF WRITING (in summary):

 

Phase 1: The Excitement!

You shout, “This is the BEST thing since sliced bread! I LOVE YOU book! Go make it BIG.” (Click on picture for fun celebratory dance.)

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Phase 2: Nervous Nelly.

Question you send to publisher, agent, editor: “Soooo did you love my book?” Followed by sweaty palms galore. (see, Chandler Bing)

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Phase 3: Awkward Silence…

…Days, weeks, months.

You say to yourself, “Where is that darn reply?”

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Phase 4: Rejection. Rejection. Rejection.

Publisher writes, “We’re sorry but this work just isn’t right for us at this time. We wish you the best with it elsewhere. Keep us in mind for future projects. Thanks.”

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Phase 5: The Attempt To Stand Back Up.

Recover. Pick up the spilled milk. March on towards that next publisher, say, “Pick me!”

**All the while not walking with a limp.

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May your encounters be sweet in the publishing world this week! Remember: they’re just words typed on a keyboard – somewhere. Nothing personal. Keep at it!