Of rejections, referrals and a whole lotta work


The goal of getting a story placed in Cemetery Dance magazine continues to elude me. “New Moon” earned a rejection slip the other day. It took a while. I was starting to get hopeful. Then it came back. I just got it sent off to another magazine, and “Noodlers Nab Nekkid Nymphs” went out again, too.

No word yet on any of the novel submissions. Too early to hope for much on that front, I suspect.

I have lost the services of Microsoft Office. My trial subscription ran out on the laptop. I wasn’t smart enough to burn a copy of the installation disk of Office 2003 when I had access to it at the university and installed it on the desktop. Now it’s either pony up the 200-some dollars for the package, or install the Office 2000 that came with the desktop. Word always crashed on that one, but maybe that had more to do with Windows Millennium than Office.

AMC just showed an ad for the 25th anniversary showing of Conan the Barbarian. Good Lord! Has it really been 25 years? I remember taking Kim to see that in the theater in Enid back in the day. She got mad at me because, during Valeria’s death scene, I was urging Conan to pleasure his lady love one more time before she went cold. That’s a hell of a movie. Much better than the sequel, although the chick who played the princess in Conan the Destroyer tempered the steel in my sword, if ya know whut I mean.

This weekend I have to read what should be third drafts of final projects from the creative writing class.

Tomorrow is my youngest niece’s birthday party in Enid. She’s a sweet girl, just a few months younger than my own Mandy. My sister won’t let my niece’s watch horror movies. Or Harry Potter movies. Or … Well, she shelters them a lot. I keep trying to get them to come home with me for Christmas break of for a while during the summer so I can show them the secrets of the night. I’d break them in slow, with the older classics, before moving up to The Exorcist.

Speaking of old movies … I had my science fiction class write a paragraph telling me which version of The War of the Worlds they liked best, the novel, the radio broadcast, the 1953 film or the 2005 film. Every one of them chose flashy effects and a crappy ending over substance. Most of the girls added a fixation with Tom Cruise, too. Kids! What do they know? They even acknowledged that the ending of Spielberg’s film was “retarted” but picked it anyway.

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