Yesterday I spring-cleaned my hard-drive. It occurred to me that having half-started short stories sitting around in an ever-growing (or at least never-shrinking) list was probably not helping with that whole not making headway thing. So I sorted through them, and shelved or scrapped stories that I won't come back to, for one reason or another. (In most cases the reason was that it was never a story to begin with, just a cool idea that never fleshed out; so I've kept the idea but scrapped the meandering excuse for a story.)
So now I'm on a bit of "finish short stories!" kick, starting with the oldest first. This means I am currently working on a short story about a water fairy that I started in 2003. Yeah, slacker, that's me. After the water fairy story, I only have 28 short stories and 7 novels to go. And that first novel, which I might yet rewrite into something more manageable. And the other novels that are crowded into the back of my head and haven't had a first sentence or anything yet. Sure thing.
Also, apropos of nothing in particular, I learnt the difference between venom and poison. I pretty much knew it anyway, but now I can articulate it succinctly, which means now I know. How long this knowledge lasts is another matter entirely. The problem with knowing this? It sparked a short story idea. I am resisting considering it a proper short story; watch me stick my fingers in my ears and chant la la la, you're just an idea, you're just an idea — get in line!
In the biggest not-yet-news of all, today my sister-in-law's waters broke. Pre-dawn this morning. As yet, however, she's so far failed to make me an aunt (again). I have faith in her, though 😉