First off, I am now the embarrassed owner of a minivan.
Yes, my old, beloved, beat up Jeep went the way of the dinosaurs on Wednesday when we purchased a Luxury model minivan with a Ford logo on the front. Leather seats, cup holders, automatic locks and doors, seperate climate controls, and an ass warmer. I'm not sure what I can do with an ass warmer, or why I need one. But rest assured, if my ass gets chilly, I will be able to warm it.
"Deep Dark Hellhole", a short I was working on prior to NaNo (of which I am slacking...I know), has evolved. No longer is it a horror story. It's becoming a sci-fi piece about a union struggle on an offworld mining colony mirroring that of the Molly Maguires in Pennsylvania. I'm going to work on it afer getting back to my NaNo word count (flagging, always do) tomorrow. Thinking it may be good for anything that looks at stories for almost identical events happenign across far spaces of time.
"Good Neighbors" is also evolving, this time into a bit of a horror piece, that is next on my plate after finishing "Hellhole", which is going to get done, either prior to or during my trip to Pennsylvania to visit the in-laws for Thanksgiving.
Got a story out 67 days at Strange Horizons , "Ain't Gonna Dig No More". Nothing heard back yet.
Another story is out with Space and Time again, this time the rejected World is Dead submission "Rock a Bye Baby", with 8 days on its count.
Still haven't heard back from a couple of big literary markets on some stories I have out there. I will eventually sell "Tribe of Harry", but most likely not to any market near as recognizable as the one I submitted it to.
Now, to other things. I was talking today with someone about writing, and how I just need to get on my horse and spur it to a trot again. I'll do it. I know I can. But it's getting damn hard to even force in the time to write. 10 hour shifts at work, Des is suffering from...well, let's say MS and post-partum don't make for a relaxing home environment. I keep obsessing over the kids not breathing in their sleep (they do, but I randomly wake up frightened they're not). There may be a story in the last, but the topic seems mildly repulsive to me and would be difficult to even imagine a situation like that.
Reading Stephen King's new short story collection. Expect a review sometime this weekend after I finish it.
Still climbing up that hill,