This summer I signed a book contract, biked by the Tetons, completed six hikes and made many, many two-mile trips down the local dirt road on foot. I canoed in a lake in the Wind River Mountains (and my back muscles have almost recovered!). I helped can 56 quarts of garden-grown tomatoes, and that number will only go up until the frost hits. The family and I juiced mountains of chokecherries and reduced them to a case of syrup and jelly. I helped patch holes in the fence until even our smallest goat couldn't squeeze through it.
I look at some of the things I've attempted this year and wonder where this adventurous spirit was hiding when I was in my twenties. I'm glad it's here now, because...
At the end of the summer I learned that my publisher was getting out of the book business. The husband/wife team that ran it were faced with some tough decisions, and I can't blame them for making the choice they did.
For me, the adventure in querying and finding the right publishing model is still going on. I'm trying to think of it as a grueling hike that will end in an amazing view. Either that or I quit writing. And I dont think it's possible to quit writing.
Let's move on to Fall.