I already know what I am going to have to repent about across this ten days of reflection. It’s all the haaaate and jealousy and screaming of “it’s not fair” and anger over not being published yet. *sigh* This one’s gonna be a toughie, as the bitterness has really set in over the past year or two. Stupid, but true. Even though I just read an email accepting a story of mine into an anthology (on which a separate post later–submission period is still open), I still cannot look at announcements made by people who got a book contract after writing a novel in three months and sending it in on a whim (these writers have never written seriously and have never been critiqued and have never queried before, mind) and avoid sudden red-vision rage fits. Good thing I have ten days to work on this.

Oh, and I have just been informed by my Sooper Sekrit Sources that today was another Happy Square Day!

(binomial(15,5))^2 = 009.018.009

Wow. Who’d’a thunk it?

And tomorrow is not only Rosh Hashanah, but Talk Like a Pirate Day. Only God could have the sense of humor required to conflate those two. So go, don’t do any work, and sound the shofARRRRR!! *pun-cringe*

Since I am not going to do any more work today (I did read that email about getting into the anthology! But that’s not work! Reading is life!), I ordered pizza for the fam. Even the dog loves the crust.

Saved by the (door)bell! La!!

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Author: shalanna

Shalanna: rhymes with "Madonna" and "I wanna," and is not a soundalike with "Hosanna" or "Sha-Na-Na." Aging hippie with long hair, husband, elderly mother, and yappy Pomeranian. I've been writing since I could hold a crayon. I started with fiction, which Mama said was "lying." “Don’t tell stories,” she would admonish, in Southern vernacular. “That's all in your imagination!” When grownups said this, they were not approving. So, shamed, I stopped telling stories for a few years--rather, I stopped letting anyone read them. I'm married to a fellow computer nerd who doesn't really like hearing about writing, but who reads sf/fantasy and understands the creative drive. I'm actually a nonconformist/hippie still wearing bluejeans and drop earrings and the Alice-in-Wonderland hair with headbands and sandals. Favorite flavor is chocolate/orange, favorite color is either Dreamsicle orange (cantaloupe) or bubble-gum pink, favorite musical is either Bye Bye Birdie, Rocky Horror, or The Producers . . . wait, I also love The Music Man. Is this getting way too specific and irrelevant yet? Obvious why I don't sell a ton of flash fiction, isn't it? To define oneself, I always say, it is good to make a list. How about a booklist? Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird Frank and Ernestine Gilbreth, Cheaper by the Dozen C.S.Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (all the Narnia books) J.R.R.Tolkien,The Hobbit/LORD OF THE RINGS trilogy Gail Godwin, The Odd Woman F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby J. D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye (before dismissing it, actually read it) George Orwell, 1984 Kurt Vonnegut, Cat's Cradle Donna Tartt, The Secret History Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn James Allen, As A Man Thinketh Mark Winegardner, Elvis Presley Boulevard James Thurber, My Life and Hard Times The Wizard of Oz, L. Frank Baum Winnie-the-Pooh/House at Pooh Corner, A. A. Milne Peter Pan, J. M. Barrie The KJV and NIV Bible (each translation has its glories)

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