It is late. . .

I didn’t get home tonight until after 9 pm and I only had a few hours to write. I had an email from the editor at Wildchild Publishing with the edits for my ghost story, Molly O’Brien. It will be published in their October 2004 issue.

I had to take a drug test for my new job today. It seems so ridiculous but I suppose it is necessary. I wore blue jeans and sandals at my last job (another perk) and now I have to dress business casual. I have to go shopping tomorrow for some work clothes while my housekeeper comes to clean. She doesn’t like me around while she’s here.

I have a submission ready to send to Paradox Magazine, a source provided by another outstanding writer of historical fiction. The story is good and I hope they accept it.

I finished Issue 15 of Blood on an Appalachian Sunset and sent it off to the editor before I left for the ball fields. I hope to get through Issue 17 by Sunday.

I haven’t touched my novel but perhaps with IVAN heading this way, I’ll get some game rainouts and get some typing done. My oldest son is taking keyboarding this year (they don’t call it typing anymore) and I have lots for him to practice on.

He has to write some poetry for his language arts class and had the nerve to ask if he could use one of mine. First of all, my blunt words are really not fit for a 6th grade class and besides, it is plagiarism which is the worst mortal sin to a writer. I told him to get his butt in his room and write a poem. I don’t want to read it as he isn’t much for flowery prose or big words – left brain all the way.

Another writer told of a colleague’s tragedy in her blog (see Ink In My Coffee). Her newborn baby died and they don’t know why. I cannot imagine the devastation and the thought of living with that for the rest of my life is too much to bear. I hope time will ease her pain.

BK