"the enemy that sowed them is the devil; the harvest is the end of the world; and the reapers are the angels."
St. Matthew 13: 39
Well, that’s the shorty done, but I can’t decide what to do with it yet. She Who Must Be Spanked For Stealing My Wine thinks I should store it up until I’m rich and famous, then publish it in some sort of asparagus-flavoured collection. Me, I’m not so sure. I’m tempted to go see Mr Q – he does lots of submissions to places that pay for short stories – to get some info on what the various requirements are. Then again, I have a history of being wrong, so maybe She Who Must is right. Imagine my chagrin if I, a number one bestselling crime write-ist (at least according to Waterstones I am in Scotland), can’t sell a story for toffee. Or any other form of confectionary come to that. Not even a handful of sport mix – which always tasted like hot vinyl upholstery smelled when I was a kid – let alone cash money.
I’ll ask Captain Q, he’s funny looking, but one must assume he knows certain things...