April 18

I'm slowly catching up on my slush reading. The hardest thing about this job is trying to choose among poems that I like a lot, because I can't buy all of the ones that appeal to me. I'm trying to diversify-- some sf poetry, some fantasy poetry, some fairy-tale stuff, some dark stuff... I like all those kinds of poems, and I want Speculon's poetry section to appeal to a wide range of readers.

I'm not getting nearly enough mythic poetry (where are all the poems about the Fenris Wolf, about Daphne, about White Buffalo Woman, about the Shark God, about Kali, about Legba, about Bast?), but otherwise I'm getting a really good variety of submissions. Yum. I dig this gig.

I read some more Kelly Link online today. Her stories are awesome, but I think I've found everything of hers that's out there, now. Which is sad. I'm always sad when I read all the readily available works by an author I admire-- then I have to wait for them to produce more! At least the new Connie Willis is coming out soonish; that's something to look forward to.

I was fairly productive last night, and sent out several stories that had drifted back to me in recent weeks. I still haven't sent out any poetry, because I'm a big lazy loser boy. But most of the little gadfly tasks I've had to deal with lately have now dissipated, so I should have time to put together some submission packages and send them out. We seem to be returning to my regularly scheduled beautiful life: reading, writing and critting.

I should really add "exercising" to that list. I've been feeling icky and out-of-shape lately (probably still residually disgusted with myself over that feast of appetizers me and Scott shared on Sunday). I need to start running, which should be easy now that it's staying daylight so late. I need to stop eating when I'm bored, too-- last night I got up from the computer periodically, wandered around, and almost always wound up munching on something. It's making me feel gross, which is no good. I much prefer feeling cute.

I thought some more about my goat-and-wheelbarrow story today (the wheelbarrow might not make it to the actual draft, though). It could be neat-- sort of Appalachian-mountain-tinged. At this point, though, it's just too predictable and basic. It's not weird enough for me. There's some missing element, some seemingly tangential thing that I need to enrich the story... hmm... maybe all that stuff I read about the Appalachian Trail this week could help with that... hmmm... Ethan and the devil and the goat, probably not hanta virus but maybe hypothermia...or...

[That, above, is an actual rendition of what it looks like when I get an idea. I get all vague and start to mutter and trail off, and I generally become unfit for social situations until I've worked the notion out. So. I'm going to go work the notion out]