And backsent to you, darlin'.

And backsent to the backsent.

And now I think I need to eat something.

OK, so the My Turn piece is done and submitted. Off my plate. No need to even think about that for awhile - it could be months before I hear anything at all, even a polite "no thanks".

I need to write Chapter three of "Cruel Sister" and then two quickie blurbs for potential books 5 and 6, to pitch. Will probably post blurbs here, since they aren't copyright issue thingies, and beg for feedback at large.

I guess what I mean by worthy is that I don't just want to be published, I want to be a great writer.

If you set out to be a "great" writer, you will accomplish absolutely nothing. It's a ridiculous bar, and it will prove nothing but counterproductive.

Set out to be the writer you are. Always push yourself to be the best you can be, and always attempt to push in new directions, but attempting to be "great" is foolish, and will do nothing put give you excuse not to succeed.

"Greatness" is for other people to decide and frankly, it's for you to ignore. Because looking to be great is sinmply seeking validation from others, and that will prove detrimental to both yourself and your writing.

Sorry to be harsh, but it's the truth.

(nodding at Victor)

Good point, Victor. Although I usually don't think about it that way.

A drabble:

Scar

I don’t remember my worst fall. Though I carry its scar for all to see, I still forget it’s there, and few people notice unless I point it out.

But once you happen to look, you can’t miss where the stitches were, so very close to my left eye. It happened when I was two, and newly in a bed instead of a crib. I rolled out in the night, struck my head against a baseboard heater.

Most days I take my eyes for granted, in all their beauty and functionality. But sometimes I see my scar and shiver.

And another one:

Fracture

I didn’t see her fall, but I can picture what it took to snap her forearm to that horrible, unnatural angle. The loss of balance. The desperate flailing. Landing hard, all weight on one rigid outstretched arm.

You cannot skate without falling. If you embrace the fall, roll with it, let your body slide over the ice, it rarely breaks you. Bruises you, sure. But the real damage, the kind that puts you in the ER, doesn’t come from falling. You break when you fight the fall. I don’t tell her that—it’d tempt fate. But I believe it all the same.

Good point, Victor. Although I usually don't think about it that way.

Well, it's the thesis of the book I'm writing ...

Susan, I especially like that second one. It covers all points, and very crisply, too.