I was just mugged by another short story.
It's second person future perfect tense. And there's a logical reason for it to be so.
When did I turn into effing Kelly Link?
I've written two short stories since Friday. One was obviously intended for Connie Willis, and the other one equally obviously belongs either to Kelly Link or to Hannah Wolf Bowen.
If whoever is getting my stories will please forward them to this address, I will be happy to pass along the mis-addressed ones I'm getting to their proper owners, as soon as I can identify them.
Also, I finished The Wild Swans today. Very nice. Very nice indeed: it plays to its inevitability very well. Other than that, I haven't much to say about it except that the parallel structure is very nicely balanced, and having grown up in the gay community during the 1980's, I bawled like an ever-loving baby through the last hundred pages of the book.
In the mean time, 1250 words for a complete very short story entitled "The Chains That You Refuse" this afternoon.
Now I try to kill some more Stratford Man.