I have a folder of unpublished stories. Or I did. I’m not saying that they’ve all been published, I’m just saying that the ones that haven’t been published (save one poor little, thrice-rejected gem…made my mom avoid me for days) are sitting in slush piles here and there. Heck, I even sent out my 3 word promptables. So either I suck it up and start writing again, or I keep reading and wait for something to get rejected. Of course, the higher road is to scribble my heart out even if my fingers bleed. I guess I’ll take it since missing deadlines is wrenching my gut.
On a side note, I passed a leprechaun walking a dog. I wanted to run up and shake him and ask him where his pot of gold was, but I figured that would have been too rude…and no matter what you believe, leprechauns are bigger than one would think. This one was standing at least 6 feet tall, festooned with red hair and mutton chops, built like a brick…um…portalet, and yelling at someone on the phone while dragging a chihuahua on a leash. Very surreal, but I still want to know where he keeps his gold.