Early on, when Hobkin was still a youngster, he got hold of a Styrofoam packing peanut before we could get it away from him. Matthew and I grabbed him and forced open his mouth and fished most of it out. Hobkin, while being young, had a full-grown set of teeth. It is very hazardous removing something from the jaws of a skunk that is determined to keep it. Both Matthew and I emerged bloody and swearing from that venture. After bandages and antiseptic were applied, we anxiously contacted the Skunk Chat community, gave Hobkin some feline hairball remedy, and fretted. As the Skunk people reassured us, skunks are not ferrets. What's life-threatening for a ferret is a light snack for skunk-kind. Still, we're trying to avoid feeding Styrofoam to our little fuzzbutt. I can't figure out why he loves the stuff.
Polyphony 4 said "no." Rats.
69-words on a flash piece for NFG's 69-er contest. My fascination with the platypus from the nature show I saw last week didn't seem like enough to merit a full short story. But a 69-word flash piece? That's an appropriate length. Fun, light, and short. Cool if it gets published, and I'm only out 69-words if it doesn't.
750-words on the Urban Fantasy. Argh. My momentum is waning! Must. Maintain. Impetus. *gasp* I'm almost at the climax with the dénouement to follow. But I'm already at 7500-words, manuscript count. My awareness of hitting the "unsellable" length is weighing down my progress. Will. Finish. Story. Dammit. I-think-I-can . . .