I'm sitting at the Happy Baker in downtown Fredericton and it is very cold today. The skin on my hands feels very thin and dry, and the tiny padded muscles of my fingers are stiff. But I have a hot coffee to wrap my hands around, and so it is sort of a good day; at least it is sunny.
It's been a long winter; it's been a long year; it's been exactly the length of year that is supposed to be measured out, but a year ago I didn't think I would still be living near Fredericton, New Brunswick, and doing the routine that I have been doing. This routine has turned out to be surprising in its regularity - which shouldn't make much sense, but it does.
I've written something for Weird Tales, and I hope that they accept it. I was unable to finish the finish the themed piece I wanted to do (the two theme issues this gloriously strange magazine has coming up are 'Ice' and 'Nikola Tesla'; I was working on an icy story, but then discovered the deadline was, er, well, today, and I rathered not send in a rushed, half-worked story, and so sent something in for general submission. I hope they like it; I hope the story finds a home first there (and then nestled comfortably in the brains of many readers . . . That sounds horrible. Maybe there is another story in that idea? There is, and maybe one day I'll write it.)
Still reworking some of the trickier bits of Novel-Project-2. It's required a lot of background reading about Quantum Theory. It's going to be a middle-grade to YA novel. That will be an easy pitch, right?
I have to get to work soon. Day-job work. One day I'll reveal this secret/public identity. One day I won't need it, and I'll buy an expensive coffee that day.