There's this truism which says a story is finished when the thought of revising it one more time makes you cry.

I'm about at that stage with Jessamine, which is on its fifth draft and was my Clarion West application story, but since I last looked at it, I know I've improved as a writer and my CW instructors did have a few things to say about it which could nudge me in the right direction toward revising again. So now I have to decide: is it finished, or not?

Questions, questions. I may just try to finish Year of the Rabbit and possibly rename that, and come back to Jessamine when I've developed a taste for wine.

I've been suffering from some mild depression recently, which wasn't at all helped by the death of my father just over a week ago. He was about to retire when he was diagnosed with an inoperable glioblastoma in the brainstem. He died with a number of books to his name, and was a celebrated and respected professor at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. He will be sincerely missed.

I've spent a while not writing anything, which is a cold, dark place for me to be. But there is some good news--I got a rewrite request on one of my stories from Strange Horizons, which I'm working on even now. And I have an idea to submit to the upcoming Warrior Wisewoman anthology. That's enough to give my weeks at least some sense of purpose; I just have to make sure I'm pursuing those goals.

I sent out Misere to ChiZine, and I'm wondering if I can cut 2200 words from Jessamine. It's sitting at 8170 or so now, down from 10,000 on the last revision (many months ago), and I think it could stand to be tighter. I'm thinking it can go to Fantasy Magazine first, unless another place clears up.

I think this kind of mass-submitting-of-different-things-to-different-markets should have a name. I'm thinking "strafing." I'm thinking that I need to get into the habit of strafing.

And, you know, writing much more than I am now.

...

Speaking of writing, I'm working on the forth installment of the Ulan stories (Jessamine, The Lion And The Lizard, Incarnadine, and now Atmosphere--which really needs to be renamed. As does Incarnadine, but I'm getting offtrack). I'm also working on a story about winter, and how much I the narrator hates winter, and how twisted forcing myself herself to enjoy winter makes me the narrator feel. Except in the story Winter eventually comes and drags the narrator off, and oh god I want to move to New Mexico.