The not-so-vacation

Last week, I took a vacation to Red River, New Mexico.

My plans were as follows:

Sleep.

Eat.

Sleep.

Eat.

For an entire week or so. Unfortunately, that was not to be. Because I walked in the door to our room, and this happened.

Inspiration.

How did that happen?

No, I really have no idea. But anyway, this is how I spent the week instead:

To the dulcet sounds of fifty ducks.

So I didn't spend the WHOLE week glued to my laptop. We spent a day in Taos and did a lot of walking and hyperventilating around Red River because Cade and I are proud lowlanders.  And we watched a lot of movies, because most everything was closed since it's a slow time of year for them.

But, I did enough writing to finish a 6,000 word story that I'll be submitting to a science fiction anthology. Said story is in the beta reading stage now, and I plan on opening it back up early next week to do a few rewrites and tweaks.

I guess I call that a success. I feel kind of bad for spending my vacation time stressing over something I could easily stress about at home, but at the same time it was really satisfying.

The Things that Go Through My Head

Look at me, keeping up with this not-so-gritty blog reboot (explosion gifs give me headaches).


It's raining today, and I spent the entire day fighting to stay productive. Does anyone else come to work when it's pouring down rain and think, "Man, forget all this"?

Accurate!

In all fairness, rainy days like this are awesome when it comes to writing fiction, but I'm really glad I have a day job. If left to my own devices, I turn into a hermit and shun all external communication. The next step, I'm sure, is raging paranoia.

I SWEAR THEY'RE LOOKING AT ME.

So. Since last week. What fun we've had.

I'm about 1,100 words into a scifi short story I plan on submitting to (another) upcoming anthology. When I was younger (high school age-ish) science fiction was all I read. It's been nice to get back into that genre. I missed it more than I realized.

Also, I managed to snag enough time to work on the full-length manuscript. It's sitting at 2,000-ish words, which is a far cry from the 48,000 word first draft (which I never finished and eventually trashed) but it's progress, right? Keep in mind this is the manuscript that's going to be critiqued by Peter Beagle in less than a month.

This is pretty close to how I still feel about that.

Really, there's not much else going on besides that. I'm such a boring person.

Just add glasses and a thick veneer of animal hair.

Seven Miles from Yonder Shore

It's been awhile, eh? I apologize for lack of updates, lack of presence... lack of anything even remotely resembling life, really.

But oh, it's been busy. So, so busy.

Here, in fun-for-all-ages bullet points, is a rundown of the boring stuff that's happened since my last update.

• Hub and I bought a house a few days before Christmas. 
• Hub changed jobs shortly before the house situation, which caused all sorts of trouble.
• I changed jobs in the middle of March. No more two hour commute.

Now, a couple of not-so-boring things: I'm linking this blog to my Facebook for the first time ever.

Funny thing, that, because before I was the type of person who would all but throw myself at the computer to hide the fact that I was working on a story.

"NO NO IT'S PORN I SWEAR."

But, surprise surprise, that got old, or I just got tired of pretending those humongous text documents on my computer didn't exist.

So here we are. And-

If only my smile was this endearing.

 At this point, my work schedule has become so hectic that I haven't had a lot of time to work on my longer projects. This is good and bad, I guess. Obviously, it's bad because I'm not getting it done. But it's also good, because it means I spend my free-thinking time plotting ways to keep the longer projects going.

It's Conan gif day, apparently.

Also good is the fact that said free-thinking time lets me brainstorm on short story ideas. Which leads me to what else I'm doing.

Enough short stories to kill a small rhinoceros.

Last week, I submitted a 7,000-ish word short story to an upcoming anthology. I won't know anything until late June. The prompt was "alternative origins for holidays" with a heavy fantasy theme. Writing the story took a couple weeks. Editing took another couple weeks. Sending it took forever, because I would lock up and think "This is terrible why am I doing this I can't even why why why why why?!"

Just add four pairs of critter eyes peering from the edge of the bed, and it's good to go.

This happens about once a week with every story. Here's what's crazy about it, though. I have these meltdowns, in which I become absolutely positive nothing but unfiltered crap pours from my fingers. I resist the urge to self-lobotomize.

Then this happens.

"Inspiration."

"THIS WILL BE THE BEST THING EVER."

 So. Now I'm working on another short story. The anthology calls for young adult-themed science fiction. I have a vague idea of what I want to do, it's just a matter of getting the ins and outs figured out for it.

Also.

I can't believe I almost forgot this.

In June (as in NEXT MONTH HOLY CRAP), I'll be participating in a two-day writer's workshop with none other than Peter Beagle. I have to have five thousand words of copy ready to go for the workshop, so he can give me input on it.

Here's how I feel about it.

And also:

There's a betting pool going on, as to whether or not I hyperventilate, and pass out within ten seconds of getting to the workshop.

We shall see, friends. We shall see.