In late 2007 and early 2008 I went on a short story submissions bender. In reality, I should probably be submitting my work like this all of the time, but I get lazy or I focus on longer projects and the submissions inevitably begin to taper off shortly after the initial round’s rejections come filtering back in. Poor work habits, I know.
Two of my manuscripts never made their way back and while organizing a new manuscript tracking method this morning I decided to contact both publishers to see what might have happened. One is a website called East of the Web, and I believe I’ve contacted them before about my manuscript. I can’t be certain, because my original tracking software declared mutiny on me and destroyed all of my data (and refuses to read the backup), but I do believe I’ve queried them within the past half year to find out what has happened to my submission. Today I contacted them again and let them know that I consider their silence a rejection sans notification and will be submitting my piece elsewhere.
The other publisher is a small press horror magazine called The Nocturnal Lyric. They were my first publication credit, printing a story I wrote called “Last Hope” back when I was eighteen. I still have my contributor’s copy on my shelf. They really have a special place in my big, gooey, dorky heart.
My story “Wings” has been on their desk since March of 2009, right as their reading deadline was looming. I wasn’t even sure when I mailed it if I was going to make the cutoff or not, and today I decided to contact Susan Moon, the editor, to find out the fate of my story. When I went to their website, I discovered that they no longer send out rejection or acceptance letters, or at least haven’t for the recent handful of issues, and that “Wings” would be in their upcoming issue.
It’s been up for three months and I never thought to check. This notification was dated February 19th, the day before my last day of work for my old employer. What a strange weekend that whole time period was.
I’m looking forward to seeing myself in real ink and paper print again. It’s a place I haven’t been in a while.
Showing posts with label publication. Show all posts
Showing posts with label publication. Show all posts
Friday, May 15, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
Episode Two of The Universe of Tristan Johnson!
The voice actress who read my story was really good, I think, especially for an nonpaying gig. I was pleasantly surprised by it.
Here’s the episode, including the Q&A interview following the story:
http://www.tristanpej.com/?p=96
I think I sound nervous and rather, um, manly, but Eric has been arguing with me for the last half hour and claims that I do not sound at all like I have a penis.
Here’s the episode, including the Q&A interview following the story:
http://www.tristanpej.com/?p=96
I think I sound nervous and rather, um, manly, but Eric has been arguing with me for the last half hour and claims that I do not sound at all like I have a penis.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
"Hello" Appearing on The Universe of Tristan Johnson!
My short story “Hello” will be appearing in audio format on an upcoming episode of the brand new podcast The Universe of Tristan Johnson.
Tristan Johnson is a fellow novice writer who has participated in NaNo with me both of the years I’ve been involved and is also a Youtube vlogger and Blogspotter as well. His website for the show is The Universe of Tristan Johnson and he is, according to comments he’s made to me, always looking for new material. Anyone interested in politics, religion, current events or fiction writing should do themselves a favor and check him out.
We still need to meet up on Skype to do the post-reading interview section (I’m not reading my own story as he’s found real female voice talent to do that for him. Good choice.) and then hopefully the new episode will be up within the next couple of weeks.
I’ve never recorded an interview or had my work published as an “audio story” before, so needless to say I am quite excited.
Tristan Johnson is a fellow novice writer who has participated in NaNo with me both of the years I’ve been involved and is also a Youtube vlogger and Blogspotter as well. His website for the show is The Universe of Tristan Johnson and he is, according to comments he’s made to me, always looking for new material. Anyone interested in politics, religion, current events or fiction writing should do themselves a favor and check him out.
We still need to meet up on Skype to do the post-reading interview section (I’m not reading my own story as he’s found real female voice talent to do that for him. Good choice.) and then hopefully the new episode will be up within the next couple of weeks.
I’ve never recorded an interview or had my work published as an “audio story” before, so needless to say I am quite excited.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
My Biggest Obstacle Appears to Be Me
First off, much appreciation to both Eric, my boyfriend and Rob, a buddy of mine, for helping me get this machine operational again. I’d have given up blogging if they hadn’t bailed me out. Hopefully everything’s in order now and the Macbook won’t be acting up again. If it does… I really don’t even want to think about it. I’m sick of having to trudge up to the Apple Store for help, and now that my warranty has lapsed there’s no help to be had there without a steep cost attached. I’m going to be avoiding that place for as long as I can.
How much objectivity is there in the opinion of loved ones? I’m sure there are parents out there at ballet recitals somewhere who, despite having witnessed their daughter’s inability to differentiate between her left and her right, still believe she could make prima ballerina. The rest of the audience knows it’s just not so, but to the parents of the confused dancer, no obstacle is too high to get around. How much of the encouragement and support of my own family and loved ones is love and enthusiasm for me alone and how much of it is for my writing? I know I’ll get in trouble with Eric when he sees this but I feel this way sometimes.
I suppose the easiest way to test this theory is to share it with others, but I’m apparently too much of a chickenshit to do something like that, at least when there’s no grade or college credit involved. I’ve no problem sending out manuscripts, but sharing my work with fellow writers isn’t something I can easily do. I can sit and shoot the breeze all I want at 100 Words meetings but to actually produce a writing sample, now that’s a whole new thing completely. I’m not sure why this is, exactly.
I know my writing isn’t complete trash, because I’ve seen complete trash and there’s no way to even compare the two. I at the very least put the time and effort into a manuscript to make sure it’s clear of grammatical and spelling errors and there are no glaring contradictions in plot or stilted, cliché dialogue. That sets me above most of the stuff being passed around message boards or personal homepages, at least for the people who take things only half seriously. I’m not really proud of this because that’s the way it’s supposed to be, so really by setting that standard I’m only assuring I meet the most base requirements of fiction writing.
When I write them, and even when I read them, the short stories I come up with seem entertaining to me. When I read sample short stories for magazines I’d like to contribute to, sometimes I think mine are better. Usually, though, I’m fairly confident they’re on an even par. So, with that being said, what do these stories have that mine so far haven’t? Am I lacking in something? Am I unlucky? Have I just not found the right fit yet? I’ve received a handful of rejection slips since I started submitting again this past Fall, and most of them have included either a gentle “not the best fit for us, good luck elsewhere,” or a short bit of constructive criticism. I appreciate them both, quite a bit, especially the ones where the rejection comes with an invitation to submit something else. Those make my day almost as much as acceptance slips. Almost.
If I take the advice of both my loved ones and my rejection slip folder, I’d have to say I’m being a bit unnecessarily gloomy about the state of my own writing. That makes me feel a bit better. I spend a lot of time in bookstores, especially on weekends, and I can’t help wandering the rows staring at the published books wondering, “Why not me?” I know the chances of being published are somewhat remote and the chances of making a profit off repeated publishings even more so, but if some of these people are making a living off of it there’s no way it’s not an achievable goal for me. No way in Hell. I just need to knuckle down and write more. It’s the only way to fly.
I’ve got six manuscripts out at various publishers right now, all of them short stories. “A Poor Self-Image” has been sent to Fail Better, “Canned Aisle” to Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet, “Commute” to The Abacot Journal, “Cryptic Coloration” to Zahir, “In My Office” is still at East of the Web and “Wings” has been submitted to The Nocturnal Lyric. Out of those six, hopefully at least one will be accepted. I’m particularly fond of “Cryptic Coloration,” though I really am pleased at how they’ve all turned out. I’m still looking for the right places to submit two of my other stories, “At the Flea Market” and “The Orchard.”
“The Woman Without” is currently over at Horrotica, as well.
How much objectivity is there in the opinion of loved ones? I’m sure there are parents out there at ballet recitals somewhere who, despite having witnessed their daughter’s inability to differentiate between her left and her right, still believe she could make prima ballerina. The rest of the audience knows it’s just not so, but to the parents of the confused dancer, no obstacle is too high to get around. How much of the encouragement and support of my own family and loved ones is love and enthusiasm for me alone and how much of it is for my writing? I know I’ll get in trouble with Eric when he sees this but I feel this way sometimes.
I suppose the easiest way to test this theory is to share it with others, but I’m apparently too much of a chickenshit to do something like that, at least when there’s no grade or college credit involved. I’ve no problem sending out manuscripts, but sharing my work with fellow writers isn’t something I can easily do. I can sit and shoot the breeze all I want at 100 Words meetings but to actually produce a writing sample, now that’s a whole new thing completely. I’m not sure why this is, exactly.
I know my writing isn’t complete trash, because I’ve seen complete trash and there’s no way to even compare the two. I at the very least put the time and effort into a manuscript to make sure it’s clear of grammatical and spelling errors and there are no glaring contradictions in plot or stilted, cliché dialogue. That sets me above most of the stuff being passed around message boards or personal homepages, at least for the people who take things only half seriously. I’m not really proud of this because that’s the way it’s supposed to be, so really by setting that standard I’m only assuring I meet the most base requirements of fiction writing.
When I write them, and even when I read them, the short stories I come up with seem entertaining to me. When I read sample short stories for magazines I’d like to contribute to, sometimes I think mine are better. Usually, though, I’m fairly confident they’re on an even par. So, with that being said, what do these stories have that mine so far haven’t? Am I lacking in something? Am I unlucky? Have I just not found the right fit yet? I’ve received a handful of rejection slips since I started submitting again this past Fall, and most of them have included either a gentle “not the best fit for us, good luck elsewhere,” or a short bit of constructive criticism. I appreciate them both, quite a bit, especially the ones where the rejection comes with an invitation to submit something else. Those make my day almost as much as acceptance slips. Almost.
If I take the advice of both my loved ones and my rejection slip folder, I’d have to say I’m being a bit unnecessarily gloomy about the state of my own writing. That makes me feel a bit better. I spend a lot of time in bookstores, especially on weekends, and I can’t help wandering the rows staring at the published books wondering, “Why not me?” I know the chances of being published are somewhat remote and the chances of making a profit off repeated publishings even more so, but if some of these people are making a living off of it there’s no way it’s not an achievable goal for me. No way in Hell. I just need to knuckle down and write more. It’s the only way to fly.
I’ve got six manuscripts out at various publishers right now, all of them short stories. “A Poor Self-Image” has been sent to Fail Better, “Canned Aisle” to Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet, “Commute” to The Abacot Journal, “Cryptic Coloration” to Zahir, “In My Office” is still at East of the Web and “Wings” has been submitted to The Nocturnal Lyric. Out of those six, hopefully at least one will be accepted. I’m particularly fond of “Cryptic Coloration,” though I really am pleased at how they’ve all turned out. I’m still looking for the right places to submit two of my other stories, “At the Flea Market” and “The Orchard.”
“The Woman Without” is currently over at Horrotica, as well.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)