a sprawl of tulips...
May. 16th, 2013 09:04 amNew online: Remnant, at Escape Into Life (along with Luisa A. Igloria's "Gardenia," J. Bradley's "#safetytipsfordating - Flowers," and other pieces, illustrated with spectacular photos by Katinka Matson)
New in print: two haiga and a haiku in Lifting the Sky: Southwestern Haiga and Haiku, published by Dos Gatos Press (which is currently running a sale -- their catalog includes compilations of writing exercises and a cancer memoir.
Speaking of cancer: Rhonda Parrish is calling for SF/F fiction and poetry about cancer, for an anthology where at least 25% of the royalties will be donated to the American Cancer Society. the deadline is June 30.
Speaking of calls for submissions: Eye to the Telescope's next theme is bodies. Submissions due June 15.
The green hair continues to liven up my life -- the BYM was inordinately amused at the compliments I received a couple of nights ago from the young girls at Sweet CeCe's. The green bean plants are now between two and six inches tall, which I find oddly thrilling (it's only been a week since most of them poked through the soil).
Time to hit the easel (not literally, though some days I feel like it). Thinking loving thoughts toward y'all, even when I don't manage to send a direct note or comment.
New in print: two haiga and a haiku in Lifting the Sky: Southwestern Haiga and Haiku, published by Dos Gatos Press (which is currently running a sale -- their catalog includes compilations of writing exercises and a cancer memoir.
Speaking of cancer: Rhonda Parrish is calling for SF/F fiction and poetry about cancer, for an anthology where at least 25% of the royalties will be donated to the American Cancer Society. the deadline is June 30.
Speaking of calls for submissions: Eye to the Telescope's next theme is bodies. Submissions due June 15.
The green hair continues to liven up my life -- the BYM was inordinately amused at the compliments I received a couple of nights ago from the young girls at Sweet CeCe's. The green bean plants are now between two and six inches tall, which I find oddly thrilling (it's only been a week since most of them poked through the soil).
Time to hit the easel (not literally, though some days I feel like it). Thinking loving thoughts toward y'all, even when I don't manage to send a direct note or comment.