Ah, the joys of getting into the office early. Very early. So early, the frigging urn's still full and hasn't even been turned on yet. (Okay, it's on now, obviously. I turned it on. The lukewarm coffee I just had really really sucked.)

It's almost the end of the month. For those of you who've just started reading these pages (even if only to swipe the pics of the hot chicks - I still appreciate it), that means two things.

First, Ian Hunter, who's editing "RAW Terror" in Scotland, is almost done with his reading and selection of stories for the anthology. He's already been in touch with me in connection with my submission: "Harbinger". But he's held off on letting me know whether it will find a home in his book. Obviously, to be fair, he needs to go through all the submissions he's received first.

In my opinion, that's good. There was no outright rejection and, seeing as though none has been forthcoming since then, it means he's seriously holding onto that story. That's also good. The longer it takes him to reject (or hopefully accept), the better the story is in his esteem. So even if it does end up on the floor in the long run, at least I can rest assured that it's given a fair innings, and several people a run for their money.

The book will be published towards the middle of this year, as a soft-cover release in the United Kingdom and Scotland. The possible pay (on publication) is all of ten pounds and a contributor's copy (which is great, because I somehow doubt his aim is international distribution). He himself is a relatively well-known short story writer (in Scotland, that is) - so I'm dying for his feedback.

"Harbinger" is a pre-apocalyptic tale, where I drew from my personal experience of confronting a stranger in my house at four in the morning. Fortunately, my guy (and I say this with utmost affection, poor dear! Bless!) shat his pants and bailed before I bludgeoned him to death and didn't react the way the one in "Harbinger" does. That's another joy of horror: we can look at "what ifs" without any of the real risks involved in pushing the envelope in real life.

Then, of course, there's the looming deadline for my submission to "The Devil's Food" anthology. These guys already have their cover art available. Judging from what I've seen there, I need to open a can of gore and mix it with my vomit before smeering the pages.

Even though I've started on this about five or six times now, I'm struggling to focus. There's always something getting in my way: religious nuts coming to convert me; religious nuts trying to get me to make a TV show so they can communicate with other religious nuts (She wasn't too impressed when I told her I thought televangelists did an amazing job furthering the reaches of global fraud syndicates. She just smiled uncomfortably and shuffled in her chair.); people holding a Madi Gras on the road outside my window; cats scratching their asses on the back of my pen as I try to write... It's seems endless.

With so many obstacles, I believe there's something conspiring against me, trying to stop me from doing this (which is, of course, absolute horseshit - religious nuts are religious nuts and when your ass is itchy, I'm sure you scratch, too). So I'll be tripling my efforts over the weekend - tonight I have a business meeting.

(See? Fate, again. Damn you, dude!!!)

Other than that, the other stories are still with Necrography (at least they're honest and just state: you'll be hearing from us in a few months) and Big Pulp. The story with Big Pulp is an "extreme horror" (formerly called "Splatterpunk") tale, "Disturbing the Peace". It makes ES feel uncomfortable: it's a graphic and lovingly descriptive tale of the mutilation of one friend by another.

As soon as I have any feedback, I'll post it up here.