So word came in yesterday that my contract has come to an end at no fault of my own. I’m not worried about it. Financially, I am in no worries for sometime. And in my field, it’s not too difficult to find a new position.
But I look at the spare time as a tremendous boon. Now I can catch up on the movies I’ve been waiting to see and work out more. I can polish my resume, work on technical skills and study business and programming. I’ve been meaning to for sometime. I can read more and write way more.
I deactivated my Facebook account in order to focus on writing for a while. I just don’t need the distractions; the latest political rantings, the pictures and memes, the occasional chats. I’m hot and bothered enough, thank you.
I’ll be taking it easy. Talk to you folks on Monday.
The dark, evil whispers of the interweb have mentioned a fresh, short story submission window coming this September.
I was a little shocked myself at such developments, given that the previous submission window closed naught but a couple of weeks ago. I honestly cannot guess how much work is sitting on the desks of the Black Library’s Editors as it is. Maybe they found some way to automate the workload, filtering out keywords and phrases they know they cannot use. Their pressing into audio and ebooks certainly proves they are tech savvy enough. Maybe they got fewer entries this year than previous ones. Maybe I need more coffee. Who knows?
But I can’t say I’m one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Sadly, I had to cancel the short story I was writing on the Bolthole itself. I’m already kicking myself that I have expended a large gulp of ideas developing the psyche of a madman, and now cannot directly use any of it. Still, the third chapter would have tied in the other two and made sense of the psychotic meanderings, putting them forward to a point, to a reason. There is, in fact, a method to this madness.
But of course, I won’t say now.
So I’m making a promise to myself to pitch of two stories for this upcoming competition. I already have one idea in mind that I feel is exceptionally good, and would make a hated name of this upstanding heretic pictured here. Good times.