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The Writer Emerges From the Pits of Doom!

Pardon the gore-covered fingers as I type this overdue blog entry...I've been busy! I entered the Pits of Doom months ago and have finally battled my way out, gutting several stories along the way. One didn't make it at all...it bled out all over my feet and now my shoes have a stiffness to them they didn't have before.

So, I revised and revised and revised again that tormenting beast known as my short story collection. I even ripped its skin loose and created a new one in is likeness, but better. GIMP is now my new BFF. We might get matching tattoos.

Seriously though, it has been quite the journey to get the book this far and at one point, I almost considered just seeing if a publisher would want to publish it for me so it could be out of my hands. But then I realized this whole process was a giant learning tool to make sure future works of mine are really in the best shape possible before subbing them out. I always think they are but there's usually a handful of typos lurking among the hot mess of "perfection." There's probably still some hiding in wait amongst surviving words, and I'm okay with that. I don't like it, but I'm okay with it.

So now, it is time to wash away the trace evidence and get ready to press the publish button. It's been real.

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"Gone Fishing" Copyright 2010 by Carey Burns Prissy jumped down from Veronica's lap and skittered to the front of the fishing boat, her paws on the side rail as she barked at the kids fishing on the shoreline. "Von, will you keep that ratty dog quiet? She's scaring away the fish." Sam reeled in his slack line, wishing he would have left her and that damn dog of hers at home instead of letting her weasel her way into his fishing trip with Bailey. Baily Evers was the only reason Von had any interest in fishing and she flirted with him mercilessly in the truck and for the first hour on the lake until Sam told her to shut her silly mouth. Since then Veronica sat sulking with Prissy whimpering in her arms. Bailey chuckled. "Maybe we can hang ol' Pris over the edge and see if there really are barracuda in this lake." He tilted back his Dodgers' cap and wiped the sweat from his brow, squinting as he stared off across the lake. "Should we