Holding My Breath

I’ve submitted my first short story to a professional, online market.

Cue the willies, the butterflies, the nausea, the terror!

This isn’t quite the first thing I’ve submitted. There was a short story I’d sent to an anthology looking for zombie erotica. Not sure if the piece really qualified as erotica, but I got a very nice no from them (and this was after I had sent the submission without the attachment and the editor kindly asked if I wanted to send it, even after the deadline).

And it won’t be the last. I have three other short stories that I like that I want to try submitting. Finding markets, however, is the tricky bit.

The two days of my weekend stretch before me. It’s raining, I have Feist, KT Tunstall and Chic Gamine playing on the media player, incense burning. Sort of lovely.

Is it bizarre that I am eyeing my kitchen table, which is precisely where my desk and office used to be two months ago, with plans to spread out all my reference books for BLOOD and the big mind map board and just giving’er while the rain pours down and with the lights down low? That’s what the office is for, right?

Grass is always greener. Or, the table is always cleaner, anyways. 🙂


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