Many chickens...

...have come home to roost today. It's weird—I must have attracted them with my comment about purty covers the other day. Three emails in a row arrived last night, asking me to re-read stories for anthologies—that should pretty much take care of the morning, eh.

It also makes me think, with some foreboding, of the size of the task when I'll have to check proofs of Tender Morsels, for several editions. I'll have to set aside a day or two each time. (I know, sux to be me - :) )

But truly, it's a lesson—don't let go the draft of something until you like it so much you don't mind reading it five or six times more very closely. When you think you're being fussy, making changes to the things that irritate you, just remember how many more times you're going to be irritated by it, and you'll find the necessary prima-donna-ish-ness, up your sleeve somewhere.

And now, I think that's enough mixed metaphors for anyone's morning, and I'll go and have breakfast.

PS The lack of hangover is amply compensated for by the staying up late to watch bike races. Oh, okay, so I don't get the headache. Oh, okay, so I have two thoughts to rub together. Oh, okay, so I'm now garrulous to the point of annoying on this blog. Dang, I had a nasty feeling abstinence would work.

PPS Oh, and hi, Linda Sue!