Another picture from the garden. I've been toying with the idea of writing a series of poems based on images like this, but I don't know if anything will come of it. To make it work, I suspect I'd have to rope in my brother's superior photographic talents.
I haven't written much in the last few days. Mostly, I've been concerned about the fate of things I've already written, sending off a few poetry submissions and trying to work out where in the publication chain my first novel is. It seems a little silly to put in a lot of effort on a third before the first is even out. I'm starting to get slightly worried there, because now Amazon's decision to force people to use their POD has started to hit the publisher. Combine that with what seems like low sales on their first print volume and it's probably not a good thing.
I've got my anual PhD appraisal coming up in a few weeks. It shouldn't be too big a deal. All I've got to do is work out a nice way of saying that the only reason I'm completing is because, after three years part-time, it's really too late to pull out.
After all that minor league grumpiness, I suppose I should try and find something to be happier about. Well... I guess my leg spin is coming out quite well ahead of the cricket season, I've finally gotten round to setting up my main guitar to get rid of the buzzing problems caused by an unbalanced whammy bar, and Kim Harrison, Jim Butcher and Kelly Armstrong all brought out new books at roughly the same time. Also, my friend Adam was kind enough to describe me as a twisted genius thanks to my short story 'a madder scientist'. That probably counts as a good thing, so long as I ignore the 'twisted' part.