I spent all day Friday trying to figure out how to get a literary agent. It’s probably impossible, but I really need one. By the time Mrs. Lion got home, I was bleary-eyed from sending emails to agents. I have no hope of success. Perhaps trying to be a novelist is unrealistic. Too bad. I like to write. I’m learning that being a commercially unpublished author is a lot like being an actor: rejection is constant. I need to find something less depressing to do.
Mrs. Lion has pushed back at scolding along with spanking me. I get it. If she continues paddling the way she did a few days ago, she doesn’t need to say a word. The paddle does all the talking for her. I have to be careful not to try to push Mrs. Lion past where she has to be. She needed to learn to disregard my yelps and continue spanking until her point is made. Adding the scold is more me trying to change things when they don’t need fixing. She is thinking about other rules, new or old, to begin enforcing. She agrees that the only one she has been enforcing is that I consistently set up the coffee pot. She agrees this is a low bar. I’m sure she will find new opportunities to catch me.
It’s time for me to shut up and let Mrs. Lion steer the ship alone. I know she is having trouble thinking of rules she wants to enforce. I’m not helping by discussing it with her. I have to trust that she will do it on her own.