Got my blood test over--I hate needle pokes, but I got a sparkly bandage--and now I can get on with my day. As soon as this is posted I'm getting into my email and sending off the synopsis and first three chapters of Horizon to the first literary agent with the good taste to ask to see it. Even if she decides that it's not for her, this is very exciting.
June 12--Camille Pissarro, The Little Bridge, Pontoise. How many greens are there? Luc sat on the bank of the slow-moving river in the green light of the late afternoon. No one else was in sight, he had the little glade all to himself. The nearly silent water hummed to itself as it slid past, floating leaves the only sign of movement. Birds murmured in the late day heat and the cicadas began their buzz saw song as the sunlight slid lower, the slanting rays painting the moss-covered bridge gold.
Nice meeting last night, ladies. It's always good to just write.
--Barbara
No comments:
Post a Comment