This year of long distance is just about as unpleasant as I expected it would be. The less said the better, but it's almost half over.
In terms of writing, things are limping along. The novel is going slowly, but going. Every time I write a little more, the story changes a bit, which keeps me interested, and occasionally surprised. A Good Thing.
Poems are less frequent, but probably a little better. Several of them, and the short story are off and being read.
I got a form rejection letter from one journal, and literally the next day learned that it had shuttered. I only hope that it wasn't the sheer mediocrity of my work that made the editors decide to chuck and go get an MBA or whatever.
I also sent two poems in to a different journal. Not my absolute best work, but fitting with the theme of an upcoming issue. I got a gentle rejection, which is progress. Up next, half-hearted rejections.
In the mean time, I am also getting back into the swing of reading.