Happy email the other day - an acceptance from Sundog Lit for a story I've been shipping around for a while. It's called The Giantess' Daughter and it's a bit of an anomaly for me: I rarely write short pieces longer than 2,000 words and I even more rarely venture into genre - in this case, a sort of literary slipstream/speculative fiction thang. It has a giantess in it, obviously. And a wedding. And an observatory tower.
They told me it would be published in the first issue of 2014 which felt like a world away until I realised it was nearly October and promptly went into complete denial about a) my son's second birthday, b) what to do about my complicated relationship with November the 5th celebrations, and c) the motherflippin' C word that is so prevalent during December. I still put down 2012 when I have to write the date on something - how can I have missed 2013 so completely?
Here in Brighton we're caught between the last thrust of summer and the grateful submission to autumnal layers and the occasional stab of the central heating button. It seems odd to be hanging washing out to dry and collecting my kiddo in shirtsleeves at the end of September. It should be hibernation time, except I've managed to take on a new job and an Open University module and there's no sign of rest any time soon. Novel to edit, Shakespeare to study, children to wrangle, work to monkey down on. Ho hum. Idle hands are not for me.