We're in Chattanooga, at the home of maryrobinette's parents, for Mary's birthday writing retreat. The countryside is beautiful, the house is elegant and hospitable, and I'm surrounded by delightful and talented writers who are selling all over the place. Mary herself just got namechecked in the Guardian (the Guardian!) as one of the glittering stars in the SF firmament.
Me? I managed to force out 750 words yesterday and they were crap.
I also just received a rejection on a 7200-word fantasy that I'm really proud of. It has bounced off of F&SF, Asimov's, and Strange Horizons and I'm having a hard time finding anywhere else to send it. Realms of Fantasy just died; it's too long for Clarkesworld; it's not SF enough for Interzone or horrific enough for Apex; Black Gate and Aberrant Dreams are "temporarily closed"... I've got a query out at a market that it's a bit too long for, hoping they'll make an exception, but the state of the market is depressing.
I'll get over this. But for right now, color my mood black.