Just heard from my agent that she's halfway through Asha Means Hope and that she loves it. Whew! That's encouragement to me as I'm trying to produce 3000-4000 words on Sparrow's story every writing day. I am planning a spa-like December of serenity to reward myself for this autumn's intensity. But do I want a different vocation? Not on your life. After years of rejections, I'm not complaining about having to fulfill contracts and submit manuscripts to waiting editors. If only I can make it to December 1 without bleeding, chewed-up cuticles. The nails are gone now, I had to quit gum because my jaw kept popping out of socket, and conseqently, the oral fixation that accompanies hard work needs to find a new source. Anyboy want to suggest a healthier option than chomping on my own skin?