Where’s My War Face?

A couple of folks in the crit group have tried to tell me about the need to let a story cool sometimes. I’m almost afraid to allow that. I’ve gotten to a point where my first drafts are coming at the sort of clip I’d like, thanks to my Inner Drill Sergeant. The truth is I’m frustrated that my editing hasn’t reached that point yet. I’ve got two pieces on the burner right now. I know I have all the parts I need; I just need to make them fit better. And I wanted it done yesterday!


“I will motivate you!”

I might as well give them a rest though–a little one–while I try to unfuck myself, lest my Inner Drill Sergeant unscrews my head and shits down my neck. I’ve been hitting my head against brick walls anyway, so why not? I didn’t go idle today, though. I shot a piece off to 6S, so we’ll see what happens with that.

New Subs

I’m going to have a go at tracking my fiction submissions on here. I’ve appropriately decided to label this, and all future posts of this sort, masochism.

I’ve sent two flash pieces here. I was at a talk in the spring sponsored by the Saltonstall Foundation, and the editor of this journal was one of the presenters. I’d been thinking about submitting to them ever since, even after seeing this potential vision of my future in the last two panels of this page from Raketenwerfer’s America’s Top Novelist, part 2.