Today makes 32 weeks. (I’ve been counting since week 5 or so.) I’m still not one of those happy glowing pregnant women, and I’m starting to think I will not be. But that’s okay, because only 8 weeks left, right? And then I can drink coffee to my heart’s content, without it making me nauseous. Not to mention finally making a beloved dirty vodka martini with bleu cheese stuffed olives.

I’ve meant to write a half dozen times since the end of tax season, but the stress of work just kept rolling over, although it’s nice to not be working 60-hour weeks anymore. Somehow, Harvester the book got kicked to the back burner by my 4th week Clarion story, “Grotto of the Helpless;” perhaps I needed a smaller scope in order to accomplish something. Thanks to the crit notes from Clarion and a few other helpful readers, I believe the story does what it’s supposed to, and I’m pleased with it – as pleased as one can be with a slightly sociopath protagonist who enjoys torture. There are few markets this one will work for, if any, but I’m okay with that, and also okay with setting it aside to wait for the right anthology. And who knows – maybe now I can go back to my Jack the Ripper transsexual alchemist 2nd-week Clarion story, with Grotto out of the way!

The big news of my week is that a story written with Gio Clairval, originally called “A Rope for the Witch” and then settled with “Hempish Love,” found a home at Polluto Magazine, and even made their Editor’s Choice. Gio and I had a great time with this story, told from the point of view of a rope. Here’s how Editor Victoria Hooper describes it, including a sneak peak at the story itself.

The Avengers movie this weekend, an audit at work to prepare for, twenty-five daylily and gladiolus bulbs to plant, and two crape myrtle trees to get in the ground. The fun never stops!