Hello from the edge of Hell where we are not quite sitting in the grip of The Winter That Wouldn't Quit, though we do seem to have received a glancing blow. It's April 8 and outside it was 40° this morning. By comparison, last year on this date it was 80° here in the fairy tale forest and that was right, and good. This shit is some kind of abomination. A friend of mine this morning called it Sprinter, and I kind of like that, because it's past time for the cold to sprint on out. Then of course I read about things like feet of snow still on the ground and I can't even imagine. In my mind those are the kinds of places where everyone goes insane around April 1 and starts sacrificing the weakest link for fear the warmth will never return.
I'm saving my woodpile for Midsummer, thank you very much.
On the work front one of my stories seems to have made it to the second round in an open call for an anthology I'm excited about. I refuse to count my chickens, it's an honor just to be nominated, etc. If the story doesn't get picked I'll send it out again but I won't pretend I'm not disappointed. That's the game, though. I knew it was a scorpion when I picked it up .
Work continues apace on the novel as well. I actually had a few hours time this week to work out some sticky points in the plot, so onward and upward for my ass-kicking, take-no-shit fairy fighter. I'm hoping to have a draft ready by the end of the summer, at which point we can play musical unsolicited novel manuscripts.
Unless it's still cold, of course. In that case, I'll be over here in the corner, waiting with the matches.