Recipe For ... Disaster?

I'm an impetuous fellow. This makes me good fun at parties, but as an approach to regular life, impetuousness turns out badly at least 50 per cent of the time. I've tried to recognise it in my behaviour and weed it out when it's not appropriate, but sometimes an event triggers it and my response is done and irrevocable before I realise what has happened.

Yesterday I revisited the site where I planned to send 'Recipe', Futurismic, and discovered the (non-specified) reading period was drawing to a close. Thrown into a panic, I began an on-screen polish of 'Recipe' at work, emailed the half-done document to myself, and completed the rest at home. Then, under pressure (we were due at my girlfriend's parents' place for dinner), I pasted my story into Futurismic's weird submission form and hit send.

Was it underdone? I don't know. What I have noticed over the years is that I do some of my best work under pressure. It probably has something to do with my day job as a journalist and editor. But due to the nature of the submission, I can't feel confident about it, which is a shame. Cut down to its basics, 'Recipe' has a kind of crime thriller aspect that sets it apart from anything else I've written.

On a happier note, I've come up with a new ending for 'Displeasures of the Flesh' which I'm giving its own working title of 'Demon Seed'. I think I might take a swing at it tomorrow.