Snarkilicious

Yesterday, I spent most of my afternoon swearing at someone.

Oh, not to their face. I was here, at my computer, going cross-eyed, trying to fix the *!@*ing mess someone had sent me for the next Spinetingler. Not someone just submitting a story for consideration, but someone submitting their edits back.

Someone who clearly didn't think the submission guidelines were anything more than constructive suggestions, to take or leave at their own discretion.

I've gotten used to it. No matter how many time you say "DON'T DO X" someone will do it.

No matter how many times you say, "WE PAY THROUGH PAYPAL" someone will tell us after their story is printed that they don't have paypal and want a cheque. (Which they won't get, btw. TFB. If we had to get Spinetingler cheques done and incur banking fees on top of postage, we'd spend a lot more money on Spinetingler... and we'd rather raise the rate of pay for the writers. Not to mention occasionally give our editors something for their trouble.)

But then, after grinding my teeth and uttering oaths until I felt fairly certain whatever is left of my soul is safely beyond redemption, I'm reminded of why we do this.

Because when Miss Snark is referencing you alongside some of the best magazines out there and saying she likes you, you realize all that hard work might just help someone land a book deal.

A stepping stone on someone's journey.

I'm glad Miss Snark likes what we do. I know we've worked hard to improve the quality of Spinetingler and to put out the best material we can each issue.

Some days, it feels like a lot of work for no apparent reason. But today, I can go back to these edits with a smile.

Even if someone did indent every paragraph with the space key 5 times instead of using a bleeping tab.

New policy. If that person submits again, they have to send a voodoo doll...

Oh, and there is a fantastic interview with Pari Noskin Taichert. Be sure to check it out!

Did you see the article about same sex marriages?
Right now, I'd settle for a some sex marriage.
(Rescue Me)

Thanks Uncle Charlie

A retired corporate executive, now a widower, decided to take a vacation. He booked himself on a Caribbean cruise and proceeded to have the time of his life, that is, until the ship sank.

He found himself on an island with no other people, no supplies, nothing, only bananas and coconuts.

After about four months, he is lying on the beach one day when the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen rows up to the shore.

In disbelief, he asks, "Where did you come from? How did you get here?"

She replies, "I rowed from the other side of the island. I landed here when my cruise ship sank." > "Amazing," he notes. "You were really lucky to have a row boat wash up with you."

"Oh, this thing?" explains the woman. "I made the boat out of raw material I found on the island. The oars were whittled from gum tree branches. I wove the bottom from palm branches, and the sides and stern came from a Eucalyptus tree."

"But, where did you get the tools?"

"Oh, that was no problem," replied the woman. "On the south side of the island, a very unusual stratum of alluvial rock is exposed. I found if I fired it to a certain temperature in my kiln, it melted into ductile iron..I used that for tools and used the tools to make the hardware."

The guy is stunned.

"Let's row over to my place," she says.

After a few minutes of rowing, she docks the boat at a small wharf.

As the man looks to shore, he nearly falls off the boat. Before him is a stone walk leading to an exquisite bungalow painted in blue and white.

While the woman ties up the rowboat with an expertly woven hemp rope, the man can only stare ahead, dumb struck. As they walk into the house, she says casually, "It's not much, but I call it home. Sit down, please.

Would you like a drink?"

"No! No thank you," he blurts out, still dazed. "I can't take another drop of coconut juice."

"It's not coconut juice," winks the woman. "I have a still. How would you like a Pina Colada?"

Trying to hide his continued amazement, the man accepts, and they sit down on her couch to talk.

After they have exchanged their stories, the woman announces, "I'm going to slip into something more comfortable. Would you like to take a shower and shave? There is a razor upstairs in the bathroom cabinet."

No longer questioning anything, the man goes into the bathroom. There, in the cabinet, a razor made from a piece of tortoise bone. Two shells honed to a hollow ground edge are fastened on to its end inside a swivel mechanism.
"This woman is amazing," he muses. "What next?"

When he returns, she greets him wearing nothing but vines, strategically positioned, and smelling faintly of gardenias. She beckons for him to sit down next to her. "Tell me," she begins suggestively, slithering closer to him, "We've been out here for many months.

You've been lonely. There's something I'm sure you really feel like doing right now, something you've been longing for?" She stares into his eyes.

He can't believe what he's hearing. " You mean . . " he swallows excitedly and tears start to form in his eyes.

"Don't tell me you've built a Golf Course?"