I just haven't blogged about it in a while. I've got the next draft of a story done, which is about one million times better than the first draft. As I've posted here before, I feel like writing short stories is like stuffing a cat into a Coke bottle (S.M. Stirling's words). Over the years I've done a lot of different approaches, but what's working well for me right now is to bring the story in mangled cat form to my critgroup, have them worry it and tear it into pieces, and then take it home and do extreme reconstructive surgery.
I've done the first round, but will need more. My husband, usually my first proofreader, has a ton of work to do for his day job, so he hasn't been able to read it. I know, I know, Char (because I know Char Peery - my friend - is reading this!) I'll send it to you, because I'm sure you're hungry for reading material. (She always is. I think she's got this innate literary imbalance that always makes her overconsume, not that I'm complaining one bit!)