I've been sitting here trying to write for longer than I care to put in writing. I'm going to place the blame on a variety of factors, such as trying to do too much on a day when I am already burned-out.
I went to my daughter's house early today to check on her kittens. Daughter is out gallivanting around a big city in a galaxy far, far away, but she asked me to run by her house. The kittens had knocked a vase off the refrigerator, causing a big mess of broken glass. I started cleaning up, but soon realized there were glass shards as far away as the front door, underneath the dining room table, in a shoe box they had been playing in, and glass was worked into the carpet. I picked up the bigger pieces then vacuumed. (note to self: they could use a new vacuum that sucks in a helpful way) After examining the cats for any signs of injury, I wrote a note to the official pet sitter and left.
Next, I met a friend in Niwot to talk about her short story, and to talk about every person we know in common. We talked about kids, dancing, and god knows what else.
I saw other friends in the afternoon. We raked my life over the coals for a while, then talked about every person we know in common. I gave my opinion on one person's poem. I'll be upset if he abandons fiction to become a hotsy-totsy poet, but he's that good and he already has the right kind of hat.
My short story, Vapor Trails, was published in The Fat City Review that came out today. What a great way to start off the merry month of March. Now I have something I can put in my next bio. Currently it reads: Rebecca is a writer living and writing in Colorado. She is currently working on a novel. Now I can add: She has been published in The Fat City Review. Awesome.
I went to my daughter's house early today to check on her kittens. Daughter is out gallivanting around a big city in a galaxy far, far away, but she asked me to run by her house. The kittens had knocked a vase off the refrigerator, causing a big mess of broken glass. I started cleaning up, but soon realized there were glass shards as far away as the front door, underneath the dining room table, in a shoe box they had been playing in, and glass was worked into the carpet. I picked up the bigger pieces then vacuumed. (note to self: they could use a new vacuum that sucks in a helpful way) After examining the cats for any signs of injury, I wrote a note to the official pet sitter and left.
Next, I met a friend in Niwot to talk about her short story, and to talk about every person we know in common. We talked about kids, dancing, and god knows what else.
I saw other friends in the afternoon. We raked my life over the coals for a while, then talked about every person we know in common. I gave my opinion on one person's poem. I'll be upset if he abandons fiction to become a hotsy-totsy poet, but he's that good and he already has the right kind of hat.
My short story, Vapor Trails, was published in The Fat City Review that came out today. What a great way to start off the merry month of March. Now I have something I can put in my next bio. Currently it reads: Rebecca is a writer living and writing in Colorado. She is currently working on a novel. Now I can add: She has been published in The Fat City Review. Awesome.
Naughty kitty. No, she is not dead. Contorted, but alive.
Innocent kitty with a lovely tail.
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