Today is the first day of publishing's New Year. Folks are back at work, ready to do what they do. This means it's once again time to buy the club size pack of antacids as the Great Clock Watching begins.

I have queries out. Some came back with wonderful rejections that let me know the story needs to be worked on a little while longer (the contemporary). One has been sitting at two houses for 7 months and 5 months respectively (the erotic romance one; I don't think I can call it erotic romantic comedy, but it might be close). And the third project is sitting with two agents and an editor. (the urban fantasy)

It's nervewracking. It's like being Sally Fields at the Academy Awards that year: "You like me, you really like me!" in dazed amazement of being chosen. (poor Sally; don't think she'll ever live that down). But we are human; we need validation.

So I have to repeat the mantra: I control what I can control. I have to focus on doing my part to the best of my ability and then trust that the Universe will handle the rest. Otherwise, I'd just be what I was last year: neurotic. And who wants to be so last year?