Make a sign that says “PLEASE DO NOT ABUSE ME, YOU FUCKING ANIMALS” and tape it to the front desk service bell at my hotel.
Research potential open calls to send my short story “Every Breath is a Choice”. It was originally accepted to be published by Time Alone’s Let Me In anthology, but the press emailed their authors today informing them the project was dead. This was not a surprise. I predicted this would happen last year when they decided to split the anthology into three volumes because “golly, there are just so many good stories! we couldn’t possibly choose only ONE ToC!” Note that they couldn’t even publish one volume, nonetheless three.
Scratch ass.
Write a pitch article for a potential column series at a popular horror magazine you’ve undoubtedly read.
Write a pitch book review for a website that mostly reviews movies.
Continue and possibly finish this week’s short story, currently titled “Poison (Deadly Nightshade)”.
Add at least one page to novel-in-progress, titled Cirrhosis.
Continue edits on mystery novella.
Continue edits on Betty’s novella.
Type an entire sentence without getting interrupted by a guest requesting guidance on proper toilet-paper-wiping etiquette.
Don’t eat like a piece of shit. If you spend several weeks eating mostly healthy, then have fast food, your stomach will definitely file a complaint with the landlord. Ugh. Whataburger, you monster.
Proof this month’s issue of Dark Moon Digest.
Proof John Foster’s upcoming collection one final time.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Remind myself there’s a town in Texas called Ding Dong.