[_Deadlines, Soft Parades, and The Adirondack Review_]

There are some weeks that seem to have been designed to try to break you. The span of Friday to Tuesday, of this past seven-day stretch, was just that. It did not, I am happy to say.

I won't go into specifics about why and how the schedule exploded, regarding one particular project that was due, but let me write this down for the world: I am a believer in deadlines. When they involved me, my name, my reputation, I do not suffer lightly my encounters with belief systems that vary from my own adherence.

Anyway, the week started to spring back to normal after Wednesday. I would not say that I have entirely sprung back to normal, but I'm working on it. Let's just say I spent a blistering amount of time in libraries over the past weekend, into the first half of Tuesday.

Last night I found a small gray cat in our front staircase. He or she was wearing a tag, so I carried the little bundle to its home and delivered it to its owners. So, that helped, somehow.

Also, yesterday, "White-Blue Light" was published at The Adirondack Review. Believe me: that helped mightily.

[_READ_IT_HERE_]

I'm very fond of this one. And I'm honored that it made the finalists' list for the 2011 Fulton Prize in Short Fiction — a shortlist apparently only two stories long. Thanks especially to Angela Leroux-Lindsey at the journal. She's among the best. Some heavy hitters have praised Adirondack, so she doesn't need me to tell her that it is a good one; but there it is, my two cents.

I hope you drop a note if you find "White-Blue" of worth. Thanks for reading.