...as in, news around here has been in of late. (Wow, marvel for a moment at the linguistic barrel-roll that was that sentence fragment. Eh, blame it on this vicious, fiction-hating summer cold; thanks a bunch hacking, sneezing co-worker who refused to be sent home. ) (Also, feel free to blame my sudden penchant for lengthy parenthetical digressions on the same.) Anyways, no news means not much to blog about, which explains how I just went damn near a month without a post.
So why no news? Easy. Dead Harvest (and now its sequel) has consumed so much head-space of late, I've had little time to think about short fiction. No thinking means no writing, and without a steady supply of short stories (see how I went and brought that around?), there's not much to report by way of acceptances. (Man, I really have to can it with all these parentheses. Also, that title callback was both lame and obvious. Way to go, sick-me.) Which is no big, really, because that means that when I do have news, it'll be of the book variety. And believe me, when that happens, I'll be happy-dancing like some funny-hatted delegate with a front-row seat at Invesco Field. (On the serious, did you see that speech?)
Anyways, that being said, I started work on a new short today. Fuzzy-headed as I am, it didn't seem wise to tinker with the new novel, and I've been toying for a while with an idea for a sort of stream-of-consciousness horror story anyway, so I figured, why not put my newfound loopiness to good use? (No, the story doesn't contain any parentheticals.) (Yet.) Will anything come of it? No idea. If this cold of mine clears up, it's right back to the novel. If not, I'll keep working on the short. Even then, though, who knows? Looking back on the rest of this post, it might be best if this one never sees the light of day.
Now if you'll excuse me, I think it's time to find me some cold medicine...