The day job is kicking my ass. And I seem to have picked up some minor bug -- something that makes me a little phlegmy and a little achy and a little hoarse. Nothing much, to be sure, but enough to slow me down.
However, yesterday the car was in the shop for an oil change, so I took the train to work. Wrote almost a thousand words. I should do that more often. Somewhere around Millikan Way my little novelette became a novella. (Throws confetti.)
At this point I seriously doubt this story will ever sell. It's so long that only the big three magazines would even consider it, and even they buy very few stories this length. It's got too many rivets for Asimov's or F&SF, and it's got gay and transsexual characters which Stan Schmidt doesn't like (not to mention that some of the science is, frankly, a little rubbery). But, having put so much effort into the damn thing, I mean to finish it, for myself if nothing else. Probably a couple thousand words to go. Once it's done I may write an essay here about what this story is really about, and why it's important to me.
After that? I have line edits to do on "Titanium Mike" for F&SF, then some critique comments to incorporate on the Jupiter story so I can start sending it out again. And then it might be time to start on the next novel. Or possibly one more short story first. Something fantasy, just as a change-up. We'll see.
Must sleep now.