Days on which I do not think about writing
Today, for example. Much angst in the morning–the freakish thunderstorm last night (I mean, it’s 38 F out there. Where does the energy come from for the lightning? Where was the cold front? It didn’t get any colder today!) forced water into the basement. Not much water, a few rivulets, but they sought out the two areas where the cats kicked litter out past the mats their boxes sit on with laser-guided accuracy. The resulting slime took hours to clean up, which pushed back the tree-trimming, which made the child cranky, which caused US to get cranky…
Yeah, not much writing. I did sneak in some looks at Duotrope to see when Sniplits is opening back up for submissions. I have a story I think they’d like, the only one I’ve ever attempted dialect in, or at least the only one I’m willing to show to others. At 4500 words it’s too much for a lot of print places.
I have a few days off the last week of the year, and I’m setting them aside for implementing the suggestions my critique group made in the second faerie novel. I should start sketching out the next one in a serious way. I should also do one last pass on the first one before doing a round of submissions with it. Hmm. Cart, horse, cart, horse.