I knew I shouldn't have said anything about getting on a roll with my writing again...

Came home, checked the mail, all good -- no rejection letters. Then, there it was, sitting on the front porch in the semi-darkness: a fat envelope.

At first I thought "Cool -- my author's copies of my story collection."

But noooo. It was the entire manuscript of my SF novel, The Wannoshay Cycle, along with a rejection letter from Bantam. Shit.

Now to figure out what to do with that novel. I'm bummed.

But hey, at least I have great job security at my Day Job (uh, that's a joke -- I work as a contractor with IBM's PC division, sold in its entirety last night to a Chinese company).

But I don't really feel all THAT bad. What the hell -- shit happens, you know? This is all work stuff. In the real world, the one that counts, I've got a great wife and an awesome kid on the way, a great family, excellent friends, even a cool dog and a cat that's not half-bad. Onwards and upwards. Bring on the next challenge. Fuck it. Later!