I am trying to read a lot this weekend, particularly from journals I would like to submit to. This is all short fiction, not necessarily quick and easy reads, mind you, but stuff I ought to be able to finish in a single go. Nevertheless, I enjoy interacting with my wife and children, and the animals around here demand interaction sometimes. The girls acquired an extra kitten this summer. We named her Fizzbit, which I have lengthened to GoddammitFizzbitStopThat when she flays my exposed flesh unexpectedly in the middle of a story.
I cannot always read a story in a single go.
Perhaps this would work better with a tighter genre focus. The rather diverse set of journals I am reading reflects my limited patience for writing a single genre, with some general fiction, some science fiction, some hillbilly-Americana type stuff, and a few personal essays.
Occasionally, after staunching the bleeding I will pick up a different journal than the one I left. So it came to pass that I went from reading about an Indian-American woman returned to her parents' home town regretting both a prior marriage some and an even earlier abortion to reading about a disembodied girl floating through Jupiter's atmosphere, and I thought to myself, "I didn't know the air was that heavy in India."
I have concluded that I need another cup of coffee.