Pulling out of stall.
Accounting: Sent out five poems last night, queried the status of one that's been out a very long while. I haven't been announcing rejections or acceptances lately because I haven't had stuff out. It means I've got enough of a backlog to try out markets that like to do four or five poems from a single poet, but that's not why I've been slacking off so much. Partly that's been upheaval, partly laziness. Time to buckle down before the entire year passes me by. I also need to get the short stories cleaned up and making rounds.
Currently on break with the editing gig, but I'm thinking it may be time to let that one go. The idea was to learn a little something for my own writing, but really, what comes to the market is irrelevant to what I write, so now it's just eating up time and resources I'm less inclined to give it. I'll be on the lookout for another slush gig next month, I think, but I need something genre-specific and preferrably poetry-inclusive. Had I the means, I'd love to do my own market, a quarterly on 13ths (March, June, September, December) with seven pieces, story and poem, drawn from faery and folklore and murder ballads. It'd be a force for the mythic backwoods revival, full of swamp witches and rumrunning Jacks, unburied bodies, hungry ghosts, desert tricksters and gentlemen devils at the crossroads, and my favorite, the country girls who love too deep and too hard to be seen as anything but monsters. Oh, and the carnivals and circuses, can't forget them, and the trains that bring 'em.
Someday, maybe.
Meantime, I need to keep on top of submissions, and answer some email. Need to let Condor know I'm coming, and get some names in for other guests. Y'all might hear from me on that front, checking e-dresses so they can get in touch with you.
Also, we need to buy some portable a/c units for the Big Blue. We're doing better than expected with a lack of central air, but while my Viking ancestors would shake their heads in disgust at my reaction to temperatures below 60, I am not exactly sanguine about anything over 76. Yesterday's 90 was kind of unspeakable, and that looks to be a trend that'll continue, as summer has abruptly arrived in San Diego.
Currently on break with the editing gig, but I'm thinking it may be time to let that one go. The idea was to learn a little something for my own writing, but really, what comes to the market is irrelevant to what I write, so now it's just eating up time and resources I'm less inclined to give it. I'll be on the lookout for another slush gig next month, I think, but I need something genre-specific and preferrably poetry-inclusive. Had I the means, I'd love to do my own market, a quarterly on 13ths (March, June, September, December) with seven pieces, story and poem, drawn from faery and folklore and murder ballads. It'd be a force for the mythic backwoods revival, full of swamp witches and rumrunning Jacks, unburied bodies, hungry ghosts, desert tricksters and gentlemen devils at the crossroads, and my favorite, the country girls who love too deep and too hard to be seen as anything but monsters. Oh, and the carnivals and circuses, can't forget them, and the trains that bring 'em.
Someday, maybe.
Meantime, I need to keep on top of submissions, and answer some email. Need to let Condor know I'm coming, and get some names in for other guests. Y'all might hear from me on that front, checking e-dresses so they can get in touch with you.
Also, we need to buy some portable a/c units for the Big Blue. We're doing better than expected with a lack of central air, but while my Viking ancestors would shake their heads in disgust at my reaction to temperatures below 60, I am not exactly sanguine about anything over 76. Yesterday's 90 was kind of unspeakable, and that looks to be a trend that'll continue, as summer has abruptly arrived in San Diego.