Frisky little darling of a day today: Punted out a new short fic in the afternoon, then topped things off by entering for the Van Zorn prize. (the deadline's the 10th, BTW, so if you haven't entered yet you should get your skates on. They accept emails with a Word.doc attachment, so you've still got time. Go on, I know you freaks can come up with summat.)
So I'm jolly pleased with myself and am inspired to keep up the pace. I should have the D&D-style thing punted out by midweek; I reluctantly abandoned my original idea as being too grim for that particular market and am polishing off a rather lighter piece to send instead.
The fly in the ointment is that my entry for the Van Zorn prize has already been rejected (or rather pointedly ignored until I went away) by no less than two webzines. Don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. The other fly in the ointment is that I was planning on sending it to Interzone, and now I'll have to work like a demon to get something as good together in time for my self-imposed Sending Something To A Magazine That Pays More Than £20 A Pop deadline of this coming Friday. Fortunately I have something on the hard drive that fits the bill; unfortunately I wrote it when I was 24. Everything that I wrote around that time is either a) a not-very-thinly veiled attack on exploitative work practices in the UK, or b) incoherent due to sleep dep. The latter can be fun, the former less so.
Either way, it's going to take work.