I got close to the end of the first draft of a 2500-word story this morning. It started out as a 500-word flash piece, but I always felt like I was paying the story short shrift, even though it was written specifically for a flash market (one that folded). The title, which I first intended to be literal, has ended up being more metaphorical, much to my surprise, but it gives the tale some added oomph. I should be able to get to the end of the first draft tomorrow morning.
Received payment for “Charlie’s Voice” at Story Station yesterday. Checks in the mail, always a good thing.
One week someone is doubting my gender. The next, someone is trying to pass themselves off as me. We got a call yesterday afternoon that four charges had popped up on our credit cards in London. None of them were for very large amounts (all less than $250, and as low as twenty cents), but the activity had been enough to trigger their anti-fraud team. At least one of the charges was billed as “swiped,” which means that a physical card was produced in person, which was particularly odd, since both of our cards are intact and where they belong. It’s impossible to say how someone got our number, but the net result is that we get new cards today and have to contact about a dozen places where we have recurring charges to update the information. And I have to learn a new 16-digit number. We’d had the old cards for so many years that I had the number committed to memory. Bother.
I’m reading Audrey’s Door by Sarah Langan. A fascinating protagonist who has a history that is being revealed in layers. I’m curious to find out exactly what her life was like as a child, and I’m sure we’ll get there. The notion of a cursed style of architecture is intriguing, too.
