In other news...
More sales--to Rachel Kramer Bussel's He's on Top and She's on Top anthologies (two stories in the latter, because there were a few holes and an idea bit me last minute.)
Speaking of ideas biting you, I was doing some reading about early medieval Arabic poetry for a completely unrelated-to-writing project. (I'm a member of the Society for Creative Anachronism, a medieval re-creation group, and I have a special interest in the time period when Spain was Islamic. This led to an interest in that culture's art and poetry, and from there to offering to teach a class on Arabic poetry.) So, right before I feel asleep, I read something about how, before the rise of Islam, poetry and soothsaying were closely linked--so closely that poetry was called "lawful magic"--and poets were supposed to have a special connection with the djinn.
And then I went to bed and dreamed a plot. Sexy male djinni (despite I Dream of Jeannie, most of the djinn in Arabic tales are males). Young grad student who's working on a thesis on preIslamic poetry and the folklore of magic, unaware that it's all true--and she's a descendent of a line of goodly sorcerer poets and has the power herself. Bad Guys who want to control the djinn for political gain.
Can you say "sexy paranormal"? I thought you could! Sure, many details remain to be worked out, but that's more of a plot than I often have when I start writing.
I woke up and started writing. 6,000 words later I stopped for dinner.
I've had interruptions since then, but it's still blazing along nicely. We'll see what happens.
And now, to go do something dreadfully mundane, such as take a shower and throw in some laundry.