My Nipples Explode with Delight

First, "Even Angels Fall" is going to be published in the October edition of Eclectica. It's a story set in heaven... or is it hell?... I never can remember. Eclectica says,

Pushcart Prize, National Poetry Series, and Pulitzer Prize winners, as well as Nebula Award nominees, have shared issues with previously unpublished authors.

Also of note,

In general, few simultaneous submissions have ended up appearing in Eclectica. Since we tend to read submissions in batches and not as they trickle in, a high quality submission is likely to have been accepted elsewhere before we get to it, and if the piece in question wasn't strong enough to be accepted elsewhere by the time we DO get to it, it's probably not going to be what we're looking for, either. There have been exceptions, though, so it's really up to the writer.

"Even Angels Fall" is one of the exceptions. It was sent out to two other magazines. Also of note, this story was rejected by Oxford American, Yale Review, Paris Review, Missouri Review, and Bust Down the Door and Eat All the Chickens, before being accepted by Eclectica.

Like they say, you can't win if you don't play.

Second, "Adam's Hot Dogs at the End of the World" is going to be published in Futures - the limited-run sci-fi feature of Nature. My story will finish up a series which last year was named Best Science Fiction Publisher by the European Science Fiction Society. According to the guidelines,

...given that interest is large and space is limited, competition for space will be fierce and rejection rates very high indeed.

It's Nature, man! The magazine that published the frigging human genome. Been around since Darwin, ok? So this is, like, completely and totally huge, ya know?

This story was rejected by Baen's Universe, Strange Horizons, and Farthing.

You may have begun to notice a trend, begun here and here. Yes, four of the five stories I've sold this year are about the end of the world. I don't know why, why these stories and damned few others seem to be attracting the attention of editors. Maybe I'm tapping into some global psychic current of apprehension. It's so weird, on this, like, metaphysical level or something. I'm totally freaked out about it.