I’m not quite sure where the days are going. It’s almost mid-July, and Christmas is racing up on us again. Today I speed-read through two skinny little eBooks, devouring ten-chapter mysteries and guessing correctly on one of them. The other, I had to consciously switch off my brain.
I also solved a code-breaker puzzle which was nice. It was like sending my brain on holiday, but only for a day. Staycation, maybe? Is that a thing people do?
What else… Oh. There was salad involved. Not sure why. In short, I did everything but write a piece of anything at all. The last couple of weeks I’ve been taking screenshots of lit-mags, and retweeting calls for submissions, and putting out calls for Cauldron Anthology subs. (Pro tip, we close subs in six days)
I’m also trying to work out how to bring a cyclamen back from the dead because I forgot to water it. If anyone knows where to start, that would be good.
Anyway. My mind is scattered like the time I knocked over a bowl of beads. Tiny little seed beads everywhere, and with that in mind, my quote for the week, from Steven Wright:
I’m writing a book. I’ve got the page numbers done.