Sunday clears away the rust of the whole week. Joseph Addison
It’s no wonder I love Sundays, my husband makes me breakfast, I can drink more than two cups of coffee at a stretch and I catch up on reading, writing, and visiting my favorite blogs without feeling too guilty…
My friend and I have committed to sending out 31 submissions and/or queries for July. Week one was good I got an acceptance with a September 2011 publishing date and she got a request for more pages from a New York agent. Although I’m expecting a lot of rejections getting the work out there feels great. Writers write and writers publish. Sometimes it’s just working through the fear of failure and/or the fear of success.
Today, consider starting a free writing exercise with “Sunday.”
Sunday is everything bagels and The New York Times, filling the bird baths and weeding between the flagstones, taking pictures, listening to the mourning doves that perch on the roof of the garage, staying in my pajamas until noon, hiking with my dog on new-to-me trails, losing time in a good book, eating apple fritters with afternoon coffee…Sunday is family and brunch, comfortable clothes, clean sheets, to do lists and time-for-me day, Sunday drives and the sun on our faces, early dinner, farmers markets, bunches of wild flowers, bramble berry pie, afternoon showers, a stop at an ice cream stand…
What does Sunday mean to you?
Lovingly,
The Writing Nag
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