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The stress of nothing...
I almost started crying today over nothing...before I realized how stupid that was. By nothing, I mean precisely that. I have a story out that I really would like to hear about, and have heard...nothing.
I worry that the spamfilter has eaten my rejection. I worry that if I contact an editor, I will be purged as one of those writers who just annoys them. I worry that I've missed some vital deadline. And this is just a short story. Hmmpf! ::imagining self dissolving into a puddle of bodily fluids over a novel::
Ah well, at least days like these only come around once a month. The dogs are getting on my nerves, and I want to scream at the icy rain outside. What's up with that? It's April, and I should be out planting, darn it!
I worry that the spamfilter has eaten my rejection. I worry that if I contact an editor, I will be purged as one of those writers who just annoys them. I worry that I've missed some vital deadline. And this is just a short story. Hmmpf! ::imagining self dissolving into a puddle of bodily fluids over a novel::
Ah well, at least days like these only come around once a month. The dogs are getting on my nerves, and I want to scream at the icy rain outside. What's up with that? It's April, and I should be out planting, darn it!
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