The world is mostly pushing me in the "crack dark humor jokes and carry on" direction, which is probably the best coping mechanism I've got. Worried about my people in DC, but there's not a damn thing I can do usefully about that, so I gesture helplessly and keep going.

Finally got the rejection for the thing I submitted in August (with apology for taking so long), and I turned it around and sent it out again. I have nine things in submission right now (eight stories, one poem) which is more than I've ever had at once, and I made a sort of resolution to average a submission a week this year. Thus far I've done five, so I'm good for January. ;P (I did three today.)

I am constantly deeply unsure what day it is, but at least today I managed to wrangle myself through an entire wake period without putting on pants. I feel that this is a reasonable ambition.

(I need to set up a wiki to start actually putting all my Fog and Brass notes somewhere other than "somewhere in the text, augh" so I have it usefully referenceable for editing and further shorts, and I will do that Real Soon Now and then probably proceed to ignore that I've done it for a month because I can't time at the best of times, which this is not.)

I finished the edit on the next Celia Lake book, though. So she can get that out to betas before release. Whee.
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