I'm having difficulty with the idea that I'm not going to have thirty-six straight months of publication. I've got stories lined up for October, November and December. Damn September! My ego is like WHAT????? But it's my own fault. I had, what 25+ stories, that I could have finished and submitted at any time.
I just hate taking responsibility, hate it when things don't work out the way I wanted them to, esp. when it was in my hands to have it otherwise.
Leslie is sexy in that Kojak kind of way. He gave me a ride home yesterday; jazz was playing in his stereo. At some point, he showed me a disc box and asked if I knew who the musician was. I didn't and said so.
Leslie was surprised. (He's impressed with some of the things I know, but really I don't know all that much.)
I told him that too. "Maybe you'll have to teach me about things," I teased.
Leslie grinned. He said he was sure there were things the two of us could teach each other. And then again he let me know what he wanted — me.
I grinned, basking in his desire, which mirrored the woman I'm becoming. I felt, in that moment, that he had damn good reason to feel the way he does.
I'm gonna enter the Iowa short fiction contest. I've got enough stories and all it'll cost me is postage.
Now, it's time to get to work on some stories. Adios.