Painful Admission

It’s a public holiday here in Australia, and I’ve spent this cold and rainy day at home writing about dragons, submitting a story about a future apocalyptic rubbishworld, sending off query letters about old, maybe-lost-in-cyberspace submissions, rereading stories that are in the drawn-out limbo of possible acceptance (if only I could take them back, tweak them and make them even better!) and trying to second-guess whether they’ll make it, checking for new markets, resting up and reading.

It all sounds very productive, but I’m afraid my motives have not been artistically pure. I’ve been snuggling up in my speculative-fiction cocoon to escape the Real World, for tomorrow I’m off to hospital so surgeons can rummage around amongst my internals, and do a few tests and procedures. Not fun, but if it gets rid of the pain that’s been slowing me down both writing and life-wise this year (the number of bad days has been steadily increasing), it’ll be worth all the botheration. Unfortunately, it’ll probably put a crimp in my scheduled spec-fic workshop this weekend. Fortunately, I have some light duty back-up plans in place.

Anyway, it’s time to be stoic (aaaaaaaaaargh), so I’ll have a spot of dinner (must cram food down while I’m allowed - I'll be eying the fridge door for a midnight snack, I reckon), and then I’m off to the local end-of-the-month literary knees-up for some more writerly distractions. I’d better stay away from the wine though. *sigh*