Lovesick is like an old lawnmower: sometimes it fires up quickly and runs efficiently, other times it starts then coughs and splutters into silence, and on occasions it doesn't fire up at all. I'm stuck again at the moment, that is, nearly two weeks now with no time and nothing new to contribute, no spark of desire or imagination. When I eventually finish it, it will be my greatest triumph.
In other news, I had two short stories accepted for publication this week. One of my goals is to hit 50 short story publishing credits in 2015, and perhaps celebrating the milestone by publishing an anthology. What do you think?