erika, I could paper my loo with rejection letters. Who was this one from? What was the piece?

Is this a romance or writing related rejection?

Writing, this time...they're beginning to feel a little the same, but in actuality, nsm. One day I'll probably marry an editor and find out he doesn't want me or my book on the same damn day. Eh, I rushed it out. I know I did. Deciding to submit something when you're still all inspired and stuff by it is like e-mailing somebody while stoned. Not putting the best foot forward, so to speak.

Fans of Barbara Michaels's classic ghostly suspense stories will enjoy this immensely.

High-fucking-praise, there. In my teens, she was one of my favorite suspense writers. Used to creep me out terribly and I loved it.

e-mailing somebody while stoned

Friends don't let friends drunk dial. IJS. Next time, pretend you're submitting it and send it to one of us. We won't publish you, but we won't reject you, either!

Next time, I will at least take a day. Not that I think that would change anything, but maybe I could have polished it...the ending wasn't everything I could want, although it's not that I hate it.(I wish I did...it'd be easier to say "Ok, then, the ending sucked.")

Teppy?

Topic?

Monday?

May I suggest "rain", or is that too much?

Oh, hell. I forgot about the topic, what with all the hurricane and everything. All right, then -- good idea, Deb!

Challenge #72 (dancing) is now closed.

Challenge #73 is rain, in honor of Hurricane Katrina (that bitch).

As always, feedback makes the world go round, and suggestions for future drabble topics make Teppy go yay.

Blade Runner

"...all these moments...

It's possible I made a mistake, coming to see this. I had an instinct: come alone. I didn't know why. Now I do.

...will be lost...

Roy Batty's dying, his six-year replicant lifespan over. It's six years since I left, six years of denial, trying to bury things, failing, denying the failing. It's about memory, this movie, about what makes us alive if our memories are stolen, or forcefed. It's a kick in the heart.

...like tears...

I leave the theatre, tears drying on my cheeks, into a cloudburst of passion I want to recover.

...in rain."

I Like Pina Coladas

The black streaks ran down her cheeks and into the corners of her mouth; the look was past raccoon and into harlequin makeup. Looks like she forgot to wear the waterproof mascara today.

My boots splashed among the puddles left by the rain. Slick oil rainbows in them reflected street lights become twinkling stars on their surface. The clean smell of rain-washed air filled lungs that had labored in the oppressive pre-storm humidity; being outside felt good.

Too bad for the breathless girl on the ground. Her puddles ran red with the blood from the hole in her left temple.

Sail, one suggestion? I think you might want to hyphenate "pre-storm". I read it twice as "PRES-torm" and wondered what it meant....