Since receiving the letter from Clarion South (I'm DYING to know who else has been accepted for Clarion... Still no word, apart from a lovely 'hello' from tallaudrey who will also be participating in the workshop--can't wait to meet her, since it appears we share a love of Angela Carter and Neil Gaiman--amongst a slew of other things, no doubt), I've been determined to knock out two chapters of my thesis before January. So last week I chained myself to my desk and forced a few thousand sub-standard words out, and have sent the draft on to my supervisor. The chapter I'm working on now contains some of the most unsophisticated writing I think I've ever accomplished, but at least there are words on the page to edit (and potentially permanently delete). But in between banging my head against the computer monitor and bemoaning the state of my chapter, I submitted a story to the 'Writers of the Future' contest. I have no idea how long it will take to receive the judges' decision, but fingers will be crossed for the next few weeks at least.
OK, so here's how I jinxed Paul Newman: I decided about two weeks ago that he is, without a doubt, the greatest male actor of all time. And I frequently find that if I ever think about a celebrity (which is rare) then within a week or two there is a big news story about the particular celebrity I've been thinking about. So let's say I think, "Cate Blanchett has dropped off the face of the earth recently," then within two weeks I'll discover that she's about to star in some blockbuster, which (by all accounts) will be the best film of her career. So, I was watching Paul Newman in Harper a week or two ago, and in my mind I awarded him the "greatest actor of all time" accolade. And now he's passed away. I may or may not be to blame.
One last thing for this mixed bag entry: Cat Sparks has recently edited scary food, which has an awesome cover design. So, just 'cos I like it: