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Monday morning, gave me no warning of what was to be!

At least I don't have to go in to the office until later today; giving me one last extended gasp of birthday weekend morning.

I've decided the next book I'm going to read is Fire Will Freeze by Margaret Millar. Over the weekend I read The Cannibal Heart, which was just...okay, not up to her usual standard; although for being published originally in 1949 it did skim over some interesting topics for the time: Mongolism, mixed race marriages, etc. But those issues were all kind of peripheral to the actual story; which wasn't actually all that great. More sad than crime oriented, actually, but unsettling in some ways. It has stayed with me somewhat, which is also the sign of good writing, so there's that. Hmmmm; but then there's never been a doubt that Millar was a terrific writer.

A while back I mentioned people asking for stories for anthologies and then not telling you whether it was going to be used or not, and then not finding out they didn't use your story until the anthology comes out? Yes, this happened yet again, and no offense, but this is also the last time I am going to do this for this particular anthology. It's just annoying, you know, and incredibly disrespectful at best. And since they don't pay anyway...it's like insult on top of injury. Never again. I'll just find another place to publish that story, which probably needs to be rewritten anyway, you know?

AUGH.

And this, for the record, is why writers are neurotic.

Here's today's Olympic athlete.

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