Progress, of an ambivalent sort. In my search for a home for Scylla and Charybdis, one of my favorite stories (and one of my few SF stories), I sent it to the Writers of the Future contest. Made the quarter-finals, which is better than prior showings, but still means my baby is looking for a home. I ought to be happier about this. I suppose it proves that I'm a glass is half empty gal at heart. Don't get me wrong, I grok that quarter-finals is an accomplishment of itself, but it still means that one of my best remains under wraps.
The hunt continues.