I got my act together today, and before noon. I submitted two Flash fiction stories to journals I found on Duotrope and I edited one of my short stories down to fit the requirements of a literary podcast called Bound Off that intrigued me. I dreaded cutting out nearly 500 words from a story I thought was perfect but by 7 PM I had done it and to be honest I don't think the story suffered at all for the surgery, in fact it might even be better for it.
Amazon had the Islands page-a-day calendar for half price so I ordered one and it came today. I figure I can write about various islands this year without too much hardship. It's not Art but it'll do.
January 16--Haast Pass, New Zealand. The fracture lines in the exposed limestone when in all directions. Dr. Susannah Riley slid down the mossy rocks at the beginning of the steel footbridge across Emu Creek and carefully made her way to the edge of the fast-moving water tumbling past the square gray boulders. She slid the straps of her backpack off her shoulders and pulled out her little hammer. "I'm not carrying your rocks, Steph, so don't collect more than you can carry." Derek's voice held a condescending note and she wondered what had been in her mind when she agreed to this trip. She knew better than to date men who weren't academics. She actually thought that Derek was interested in science and study but all he wanted to study was how his tan looked against the pale blue of his eyes in the glare of the sun as they hiked and making sure they found a level place to make camp at night so he didn't have to work too hard. She wondered why he had suggested this trip. He was much more of a city boy, maybe he had something to prove, some macho image to live up to. "Don't worry," she said crouching to chip out a fossil trilobite, "I won't make you carry any rocks." Except for the ones in her head, she thought.
Eh. At least it's writing.
--Barbara
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