Domestic Port

Today was the first day in about a million years that I didn’t leave the house. Grandma fell again, though adamantly she denies falling. Russell found her collapsed on the bathroom floor inthe doorway under the walker. I guess she found a comfortable place to have a seat.

I did get some work done, as in 1250 words on a new short story. It’s involved in a captive Halloween contest on Codex Writers Group. I can’t give any details as this is a blind contest. All I’ll say is that there are hints of home.

Mail bag is still empty. It’s been 9 days since my last rejection. Considering I have 34 stories in the market, that’s a pretty long time. (I have 36 available, but I’m waiting on a response of one before I decide where to send the other two.)

The last one out the door was a new one called “Swirling Beneath One Thin Ring,” which I sent to George Scithers at Cat Tales. Though I’ve already sold my obigatory cat story to The Written Word, I wrote another one. It’s about a genetically enhanced cat working on a gas mine at Jupiter. It’s in first perons and written in the form of a journal.

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