The last of the Canadian students started writing their exams on Friday; I’m free again, so I spent the weekend writing the first draft of a short story that’s been messing around in my head for a month or so. I just finished it, and my head’s all fuzzy.
I love that feeling.
I didn’t, now that I’m free, clean my house or do any of the menial things I was supposed to do. I’m not worried about them; the house will still be dirty next weekend.
The last two weeks have been full of interesting things:
- the rabbit died (interesting, but not in a good way), so The Ark is down to two algae eaters who act like slugs, and one very fat cat
- I got a new student, an adult who is a follower of Sai Baba; he talked a lot about Sai’s philosophies, etc. I spent more time learning from him than he did from me
- I got my first “gifted” student, whom I am supposed to keep challenged all summer; this is certainly a challenge for me
- the brilliant Nichola Ward wrote two poems which did nothing for me, and then made up for them last Thursday with the most astounding, awesome performance piece I have ever experienced. It’s not published yet, so I can’t show it to you. Hurry up, Ms. Ward.
- it got warm, and the tree outside my window is exceedingly happy about this
- it got warm, and Bob is exceedingly happy about this; he’s got new Bob parts
- it got warm, and I’m not so happy about this ’cause the far side of Signal Hill is never warm so I can’t pretend that’s where I am
There are plans afoot to start a new short story magazine. It’s supposed to be a way to get our stuff out there so we can be published rather than waiting for our stories to fit into someone else’s plans. I’m excited; I think I’ve decided that indie is best, anyway, so I’m just gonna have to bite the bullet and figure out a way to sell my stuff. I made the same decision about being self-employed; I still despise doing the advertising but it’s worth it so I don’t have to work for someone else.
There are a lot of bullets to bite. Good thing I like the taste of metal.