Okay, I think I'm getting the idea, now. I insult you and you wake up. :-)

To each and every one of you that requested some particular thing in my writing, I will take care of each and every one of you over the next couple of months. But not here. Thank you everyone for taking the time to indulge me a little, and for pointing out my seemingly obvious sense of sarcasm.

You see, I've found out that I'm much more productive when writing for a specific market. If left to my own devices, I have a tendency to hmmm and hah and generally shoot down every idea that crawls through my head before I have a chance to write it. But when I hear something like, "Yeah, there's a new gargoyle anthology opening up for submissions soon," I immediately get into gear and crank out a gargoyle story. At Clarion, most of my successful stories were the ones that came from some outside directive. Micheal Swanwick said, "Write a story about a man who wants something he cannot have." And entire world-building excercise of ten thousand words came out of that one. John Crowley had the gall to say, in reference to anything even remotely resembling horror, "I really don't see much point in stories like this, beyond the momentary thrill." To which I wrote "Scratch," a little "Tales From the Crypt," style of story where a man quite literally scratches himself to death with an ever escalating series of objects, including a cheese grater. :-) The fuckin' putz. I brought up the fact that the ghost stories of Henry James were probably considered just as shocking at the time they were written as any spatterpunk is today. He just ignored me the rest of the week. What can you do with a World Fantasy Award winner who thinks he knows everything . . .?

So, you see, this really wasn't a pointless excersize over the last couple of days.

And once again, thanks for your help.

Until next time, Joseph Haines signing off from the Edge of the Abyss.