Blorp

The tone of TSP wasn’t right for The Town Drunk–it wasn’t lighthearted enough. Once I get Prada and the Giant Sloth back, it’s going to them.

Blast

Prada and the Giant Sloth made it all the way to Ben Philips, who thought it was too cheery for Pseudopod.
I can’t say he’s wrong, it is an almost manically cheerful story, even if it does have a few dismemberments and decapitations.
One day, Pseudopod. One day.

Bloody hell

I just got a rejection from the Footprints anthology. I was expecting that, as I didn’t think that a story about two campy telepathic aliens with a death wish would appeal to them. 
Correction, I didn’t think it would appeal to anyone except me.
But I made the final list! Reading that blew my mind. I hadn’t [...]

blll

It’s too early. The alarm my mobile phone decided to use was this trancey euro-pop crap, and it didn’t register with me. I assumed that it had to be part of my dream for the first few minutes, because no telephone of mine would have that crap on it.
But what I’m posting about is [...]

Alas

No warm snuggles for TSP from Fantasy magazine. I’ll figure out where to send it next after I’ve finished listening to The Poison Belt while knitting myself an alpaca wool scarf.

Alas, alack

Just got a personal rejection from Apex. For those of you not hip to the jive of publishing, that means it wasn’t rejected out-of-hand. The editor gave me some excellent constructive criticism, but I’m not going to dive straight into Reginald just yet. I’ve lost track of the amount of times I’ve given this story [...]