I lie to my friends. when they call me, I say "I'm working." they ask on what, and I mutter about my tiny one-day-a-week's worth of job. when actually I'm thinking about writing something, or redrafting something, or going through my resources for more magazines/competitions to send stuff too. people do know I'm getting one or two things published, but I have a feeling it wouldn't be considered real work to say I'm just daydreaming about this character, see, who...

how's this for a strange rejection: "enjoyed your stories and am sorry we can't use them?"

I suppose there are just a lot of very good people writing out there. and being just good isn't enough.

Madame Bovary's Italian greyhound; where did it go?