There's nothing like a blizzard in the heartland to bring the return trip to a screeching halt. Go to Sunday Mass or leave first thing in the morning, we wondered. Beat the storm or take our chances? Go to Mass, of course. And stay an extra day when the storm hit and spoiled our best intentions to be home by Sunday night.
It never rains but it pours, unless it freezes, which it did, before the snow came down sideways and the wind gusted up to 30 miles per hour.
After a long weekend, I finally got back home to my snail mail. Nothing at all from a single agent, and you'd think there'd be a rejection or two to the query letters sent a couple of weeks ago.
What about e-mail? Not a peep out of the agents who received my lovely personalized query. They're stunned into silence, no doubt.
But it paid off, going to Mass. Another short story has been accepted. Sure and it's the time of miracles.