Shh…he’s reading and he gets really pissed when you interrupt because that is a tiny little book. The font is ridiculously small. Oh no, he heard us. I love it when he looks annoyed.

I’m in my garage/office watching as Plow Asshole covers the end of my driveway for the fourth time today. Know what? I am not shoveling the damn thing again. I don’t care if we get ten feet of snow, Kurt can find his own way out of the driveway. Four times is too many. Of course, if I’d paid attention to the weather forecast, I’d have known that shovels two and three were pointless.

Anyway, you don’t want to hear about my battles with the Municipality of Tweed public works department. If  you do, let me know. I’ve got a lot to say about Mr. Recycling Jerk.

In a couple of days my first monthly article will run in Open Book Toronto. They’re having some technical difficulties at the moment, but expect everything to be figured out in the next couple of days. Go check it out when it is up. I’m running a monthly writing challenge open to all writers, no matter what country you call home. You’ll have two weeks to write a flash fiction piece that adheres to the challenge guidelines. The winner is published in Open Book Toronto with the next month’s challenge. Okay so you won’t get tons of money, but I will offer a solid pat on the back, virtual martinis and lots of people will get to read your story. Come on, that’s a good deal.

I received three rejections today for some short stories I submitted a few months ago. Okay, one was sent in May so it didn’t really bother me since I already assumed rejection. The other two, meh, I see now after reading more of their ‘accepted’ stories, that dark isn’t their thing. They don’t seem to like twist endings either. It’s not nice to fool the reader. Pffft. The good news is that they weren’t rejected based on my writing ability, and I’m happy with that. Style and voice, not much you can do. If it doesn’t fit, it doesn’t fit. Where’s my martini…oh, thanks Clive.

My fingers are numb. It’s a bit cold in my garage. Maybe if I took the heater out of my pants I could warm up my hands. Kurt says it doesn’t belong there anyway; fire hazard.

Actually, I’m just rambling. What I really wanted to bore you with today is something entirely different. Have you ever stumbled across an agent/publisher/publication that seemed tailor made for you? The guidelines, publications, etc. just feel…right? I found a very small Canadian press that I instantly felt a strange, “Oh my goodness, I WANT them to publish THIS book.” kind of feeling. No, they aren’t right for all of my writing, at least not from what I’ve seen so far, but remember Jack? You know, the manuscript I feared couldn’t be placed because it just wasn’t something publishers would like? That one. As soon as I read the ‘About Us’ page, Jack began waving his arms like a maniac. “Pick me! Pick me, bitch!” he kept saying. I ignored him and went through their catalogue of books, blog posts, and their Twitter page. Jack was all like, “If you ignore me any longer…” then I read their submissions guidelines. I giggled, many times. I felt as though I was reading guidelines I had written. Seriously. So I said, “Okay Jack. I pick you.” He offered an obscene method of repayment for my generosity and I declined. I’m a nice girl from Tweed. I don’t do the things Jack likes to do, thank you very much.

So I went about writing the most ridiculous query ever. Strange, funny, and probably including every ‘don’t’ ever written on those agent blogs. Now we wait. If they say no? So be it. You never know either way if you don’t even try. I’m picking up a box of wine in case they’re accepting bribes.