Mobile Army Surgical Hospital
There are permanent dark spots on my laptop to either side of the mouse thingy where my palms sit while I type. I think I’m wearing holes in my laptop.
To all my writer friends: I’ve noticed, while listening to others quietly in the corner in the room, that women are much more attracted to guys with absolutely no direction in their lives than they are to aspiring writers. Go figure.
So it’s coming up on the end of the fourth quarter for Writers of the Future. I’ve heard down the grape vine that people have been receiving their rejection letters and acceptance calls. I have received neither a phone call nor a letter. My bet is that I made unpublished finalist. First place loser.
Either way, I’m mailing out Scharling Lew to WotF on Thursday. And if I hear back that Hero Kyros wasn’t accepted, then that will be sent out to Fantasy and Science Fiction. When I get both those sent out to their respective destinations, I will update the side panel with the location of the short story and the date at which it was sent out.
I have the outlining done for Shadow Love. I’ve also done a little outlining for the new beginning of Dragonborn. And I’m searching for a new title for it. I will also start the outlining for Envoy soon.
Writing is taking a backburner. I know I promised to do more of it. But sleep is more important right now. I’m sorry to all of you hardcore writers that put writing ahead of small things like food, sleep and general hygiene. I will try to write for an hour or two tonight after my Inscape class.
Curse those afternoon reruns of M.A.S.H. on the Hallmark channel. But as Jaime knows, M.A.S.H. is like a muse to me. It’s good luck, damn it.
For those of you that don’t know the story, here it goes. At the Orson Scott Card Literary Bootcamp, I couldn’t come up with a good story. I spent hours that Wednesday morning holding my head in my hands and trying to squeeze something creative out of my brain. Finally, I gave up. I went ahead and spent four hours watching M.A.S.H. while my bewildered co-students dropped by and wondered what the heck I was doing not writing. Then I took a nap. Finally, I started writing at about nine-thirty and finished around three A.M.
And thus was born the first draft of The Manor at Scharling Lew.
