Week of January 21-27 (belated)

Two rejections. La la la.

I also finished "At the Sign of the Fish and Amulet" longhand at my grandparents' kitchen table on Saturday afternoon, making it four short stories for four weeks of January. I do not intend to do fifty-two short stories this year. Still, it's been good to get things cleared out a bit, mentally. Tidying up the brain just a little.

Had a good time with my grands. I think my grandpa had a good birthday celebration, even though his actual birthday isn't until Thursday. And now there is typing of that story to do, and there are other stories to write, and the house will demand house stuff -- Melvin the Laundry Monster threatens -- so there's all that, and it's looking suspiciously like a Monday.

brief PSA

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talent and dedication (the other kind)

The problem with not being a big believer in talent is that when people compliment one's talent, one is perhaps less pleased than one ought to be. See also: personal beauty.

(It's not that I don't believe talent exists. It's that I don't believe it's good for particularly much. My response to "so talented" is approximately, "That's nice, dear, but here in Grown-Up-Land we work for a living.")

But possibly I am just in a sour mood because my back is pretty far out of alignment. These things do happen. Happily, there are professionals who are employed to remedy these very situations. And even in a sour mood I'm finding things to enjoy.

To cheer myself up, I went and poked around to see what stories I had in mind to write for specific people, and there are a goodly number. I have decided I like doing this, but not when the people know it's coming, necessarily. I'm making an exception for the one I'm working on now, because Carter's stories are almost always fun, so it's okay that wilfulcait knows it's hers. But mostly I prefer, "Surprise! I wrote you a story."