Rainiest summer in a long time. Misting and spitting all day. A breeze came up during the night and blew the humidity away. The 50 degrees it left behind has the air feeling like fall, and making me wonder where I left my fleece.
Was packed up and ready to drive to Wyoming today, but the weather—among other small concerns—put a damper on the escape. Truck needs some looking after, including a repair to the undercarriage so the spare tire can start having a proper ride.
Trip to the Bighorns will have to wait until next week. But that’s okay. Anytime’s the right time. Meanwhile, got a nice letter from the editors at Leapfrog Press, inquiring after unpublished stories from The Outskirts of Nowhere for possible placement in their lit journal, Crossborders. Told them all were taken, save two, either of which I’d be delighted to see them put into print.
Sent along a third as well, “Give Me Your Tomorrows,” which is not part of the collection. GMYT has gotten some nice comments from editors, but the epistolary nature of the narration seems to bug people, so I guess we’ll see what happens.