Am a bit up and down, at the moment. I've had rejections from everything I've submitted to apart from Black Lace- Xcite, Cleis, Best Women's Erotica. The story I liked the most - Men - got a bad review from Coffee Time Romance. Even though it's also the most romantic story I've written. The only publisher willing to publish my stuff is probably going to fold any second (ETA: just to be clear for people who worry a lot like me in these uncertain times, this is nothing more than the fevered neurotic imaginings of my fear-the-worst-brain. Not super secret special inside knowledge of the world of publishing), I seem unable to count my numerous blessings, probably because the hot weather has made maths fall out of my head. I keep getting brain tumour headaches. We're all going to die in some unnamed apocalypse in 2012- probably when a gigantic brown dwarf crashes into us (ETA: this, on the other hand, is ABSOLUTE TRUTH).
Sorry I don't have better news. Here's a picture of Nathan Fillion's ass, Bertha, to sustain you through this trying time: