afp

I decided to stop lurking and do some posting yesterday, and it's rather fun. I think I may have already exhausted my posting quota for the decade, but it's fun nevertheless. I'm still waiting for someone to get the last limerick I posted (I knew 'Weather With You' was too easy!).

On a different note, I think I'm going to have to start buying magazines I don't intend to read, in order to get information on places to send my writing to. I can't delude myself into thinking I'll get enough work from the select group of publications I already read, and there just isn't enough out there that interests me otherwise. I think I'll find myself writing some complete crap, just to get a foot in the door, first. This is the frustrating bit. I'm tempted by the persistent notion that I can already write too well to bother myself with this twaddle, but I'm also realistic enough to know that isn't true. Anyone else have these problems with delusions of grandeur?

In lieu of an explanation for the above, I shall just say that Jacob's Creek Shiraz Cabernet is simply wonderful wine.