Must listen

You only have seven days, but this is hilarious.

Mark Thomas on the demonstration laws in London's parliament square.

A quote from this 'The police can, on the day, impose restrictions if, in the defense of surrealism, you do anything silly.'

Spring Cleaning

Of mind and house needs to be done. Over the last couple of weeks the sun has shone through the windows revealing corners in need of scrubbing, and every time I open a cupboard or drawer I'm aware that they need bottoming out. My trouble is where to start - the library is worst, probably because I essentially live in this room, despite having a whole house.

Writing also needs something of a spring clean. I have 15 (!) short stories to finish, and 8 to re-send; although I have no markets selected. I'm also about halfway through the agent query process now, with seven sent of about 15 (there are still a couple I haven't decided about). I should also sort my rejections and acceptances into some sort of filing system which is viable for the long term. At the moment I have a plastic envelope which is beginning to bulge. For the first time yesterday I fantasised about a filing cabinet.

My copies of The Blotter Rag arrived, so they are with the Kinships Magazine awaiting Wanderings before I organise and send one copy of each home...see? My piles of paper have piles of paper.

I should also write letters. The Doctors are having a baby, the English-American is getting married and I have any number of letters from friends which should have been replied to already.

This need to spring clean was precipitated, I think, by the arrival of the wonderful new monitor, which resulted in the computer-graveyard effect in the library. I have found the old one a home, but it is the last level of mess I can stand. Tonight I have a meeting, but tomorrow I think I will start organising.

The garden is beautiful, though. Everything is coming back to life. We're going to put in a new bed outside the living room window.

Oscar Wilde

I have discovered that whilst listening to good writers when writing is often inspiring, but listening to brilliant writers is perturbing to the point of making work impossible. I shall never listen to Oscar Wilde Whilst trying to write again: to live up to standard is quite impossible, even for the most inflated ego.

Rejection

Okay, so Belinda came back with a 'thanks but no thanks' form letter; which initially was upsetting, as I'd been making all the other rejections not matter by telling myself the big thing was still out. But on the up side I think it probably did a lot of good, as now I'm going to go agent hunting. Which I wasn't before, because I thought I could handle the marketing thing.

Ho hum. The marketing thing. Well, I'm better at it than I was. I've learnt a couple of tricks and decided that some things just have to be left to try, try and try again. There is more than one thing sold now, and a short list of places I've been published. Nowhere big or impressive, but places have published my stuff and I even have a nice comment next to a piece I can use as a review.

Essentially, however, an agent is what is required. I truly don't have the time I want to write in. There are too many hours put into: 'Who might like this?' 'How does it need to be formatted?' 'How will I re-phrase the covering letter to make it jump out?' and the eternal 'Please, get me out of the slush pile!'

Now I must leave you and investigate Miss Snark on how to woo the agent of my dreams.

Biological processes

Because it is very cool, and people who haven't see it should, I give you The Life of A Cell.