little blue

     I hate goodbyes. I have never been good at them. Tonight is no exception. I have decided it is time to become organized in the writing/querying process. This means that little blue has got to go. (I say little blue because BIG BLUE is my husband's hand-me-down, poof-jacket from his mom, circa 1973ish. It is perhaps the bestest, warmest, most comfortable, and unflattering jacket ever made by man.)

our beloved, BIG BLUE

   We love BIG BLUE... but I digress. little blue, to continue, is my peachy folder I have been stuffing my manuscripts in since I started taking this writing thing seriously. It is torn, tear and  grease-stained, and graffitied by my almost-four-year-old with her hallmark, "H".  One pocket is stuffed with a rough draft stack and query letters and the other with finished pieces. Flimsy as she may look, this little sucker has traveled up and down the state of California in my green, valour purse along with other hard to get-rid-of items like gum wrappers, Target receipts, and moldy mandarins. It has been little blue who has been known to cause dread and panic in loved ones because once she's is out, you're cornered into reading and opining on at least one manuscript (please see "Poor Husband" post to understand the terror and anxiousness one might feel). I love little blue.

my dearest, little blue

 

 Goodbye little blue.