Close One

We’ve got one of those holes in our door that the mail comes through and lands with a FWAP!! on the hardwood floor that startled me every single time for the first two years we lived here.  As I walked toward the pile today, there was a large first class envelope face down under the pile, its triangle-printed edges waving to me like flags, little green reminders of the myriad manuscripts I’ve got out there in the stratosphere awaiting consideration.  My heart sank, heavy in my chest as I approached the pile, and I knew it wasn’t just that cheeseburger I’d had at lunch.  I know that envelope all too well. Returned manuscript means “no thanks,” usually with all the warmth and encouragement that a standard form rejection letter can muster, and I have seen enough of those in the past few months.

Worried for nothing though. Turned out to be an update from Manfrengensen’s professional association.  Hooray!  That’s one more day the manuscript’s afloat out there on the wind.