I basically can’t manage my own life.

Or I can, but I suck at it lately. I have more stories out there under review than I’m actually completely comfortable with–I know, I know, cry more, but seriously, juggling them all intelligently gets tricky once you pass a certain threshold, even with Duotrope’s submissions tracker. I have a backlog of ideas. I have a Super Secret Project Thing in the thinking-stage works–where it will stay, for now, since I don’t have a prayer of having enough time to work on it at the moment. And I have a novel waiting for edits, where it’s been for the last two months, and it’s really high time to drag it out of the figurative drawer and try to carve it into marketable shape. And behind all of this is my real actual day job, where I do research and write papers and have a full courseload and try to herd 60+ undergraduates toward a non-tragic end to the semester. If nothing else, that job is what pays the bills at the moment, so neglecting it is probably not the best idea.

So I’ve decided to write one last thing and take a break. A long break, not the half-week long things I take sometimes, which are frankly a joke. One last thing and then no more new stuff until the novel’s been redrafted at least once–barring something I simply can’t say no to, like Clockwork Phoenix reopening.

Much of my writing has taken on a compulsive edge in the past year. We’ll see how well I can stick to this.

Oh, and news regarding Scheherazade’s Facade, for anyone playing along at home: It’s been bumped back yet another year. Our fearless editor is still working to find another option, but so far other options have not been forthcoming. Am keeping everything crossed, because it really seems like a hard shame to wait two years to see this thing in print, and I think I’d feel that way even if I weren’t a contributor.

Watch this space. You know, just in general.

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