I sent off two stories yesterday. One went to Black Gate, the other to the Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction.

To be honest, I have no real hope that either of them will be accepted. In the end the only thing I can do is send them out again to new places, and see if any of them will ultimately accept it...

But really, I'm becoming completely demoralized in my quest to get published. Not to write -- my writing has been going reasonably well. But in terms of getting published, that's a horse of a different color, and relies less on quality and more on appeal.

Maybe I'll never get published. THAT's a horrible thought, since it means I've effectively wasted my life.

Eh. Don't mind me; I'm just depressed about this all. It doesn't mean I'll stop trying.

Some guy in Medical Records just screamed at me for asking him to do his job.

And I mean that precisely literally. I asked him to perform one of the basic functions of medical records, that of having a patient go through the necessary process to have records released to her. For this, he yelled at me: a literal increase of volume combined with sarcasm, insults, and hostility.

How do people like that keep their jobs? How do they not get shot on the street?