I Write Sins Not Tragedies

I would really love my 100th post to be about our big ol' beach trip, and I promise I will get to that (for the three of you who might care), but I couldn't stand to leave my last post hanging there all sad like that for one more day. But I also can't stop to write a real post right now because I'm trying to cram ten months' worth of creativity into one hastily finished short story for the Memphis Magazine fiction contest. Stacey got a group of us bloggers into this, and we're all in various degrees of scramble at the moment. I do have a tendency to wait for deadlines and usually operate pretty well under pressure, but I'm starting to realize that being under fire makes me more verbose than graceful and I can already feel my framed portrait of Hemingway seething his disappointment from across the room.