Pudding

My brain feels like tapioca today. Or is it my whole body? I'm not sure, but man o man am I out of it.

Despite my pudding-like consistency, I did manage to make myself useful - I shipped off another short story to the publisher who gave me a nice note when they initially rejected "Bambino." This time I sent "First," the only of the three stories I originally sent out that didn't get a thumbs-down (the magazine in question was no longer taking submissions). While waiting for it to print out I gave it another read this morning and I'm still quite fond of it, so perhaps it has a chance of winning the publisher's approval this time around. At any rate, I'll keep churning out the stories until I run out of ideas in my head.

Speaking of the writing, I'm still hovering around 78,000 words or so on "Confessions." Since I'm in between both teaching and being a student, I'm only taking public transporation once or twice a week at most, and thus the words are only coming out in a meager trickle right now. I expect my output to pick up again once the Fall semester starts, though, so I can get my protagonist out of the woods at last and into the final plot conflicts of the book.