In Which I Sell The Impossible Story To Uncanny Magazine!

I have three distinct personalities as a writer: scribbly-guy, edity-guy, and marketroid. I don’t let the three talk to each other.
Scribbly-guy just writes. I don’t really know where the stories come from; I just get a weird first sentence and I roll with it.  Likewise, Edity-guy doesn’t question the submissions he’s getting: he’s got a story on his desk, and it’s time for him to make it better.
Mr. Marketroid, the part of me that actually has to go out and find a place to buy these stories, gets the final product and weeps.
And no story made him weep harder than “Rooms Formed of Neurons and Sex,” because it’s a story about a phone sex operator who falls in love with a BDSM-obsessed brain in a jar. Not only is this story extremely sexually explicit, not only do the words “brain in a jar” appear unironically and repeatedly throughout the work, but it is also 6,400 words, roughly 1,500 words more than most story markets will take.  (For the record, this whole post clocks in at a hair over 300 words.)
Yet after years of reworking, the fine editors at Uncanny Magazine just sent me back the contract, so “Rooms Formed Of Neurons And Sex” will appear in a future issue of Uncanny.  Which is awesome, because every short story writer has a couple of markets they long to be published in, and Uncanny Magazine has been knocking it out of the park lately with kick-ass stories from some of the authors I admire most.
It’s not out yet, obvs; the wheels of publishing grind slow and fine, and they’re committed with stories through February.  I’ll letcha know when this absolutely psychotic weirdie of a story will be available for your perusal.
But I sold it! And you’ll see it. In a place where I’m in great company.  And soon you’ll be able to put your eyes on Lydia and the Naughty Nurse Hotline and how she comes to fall in love with, yes, a brain in a goddamned jar.