Welcome, winsome wanderer, to my wonderful little world. How many w's can a sentence have, right? Oh, not the question you had in mind? I see: you're the negative type. What makes my world so wonderful, you ask? Well, I consider it wonderful, and that’s what matters most of all:
having my own nice, wonderfully warm little corner of the world.
The topics of the day are my rejections, acceptances, and flatness.
Yesterday, I submitted a short story titled “Dirt.” to “The
Literati Quarterly” (it's their logo up top). Within half an hour, my work was accepted. I also became a
member of a closed group on Facebook called “Write to Be,” where I’ve met some
very interesting writers and found out about some really cool places to submit
my writings. Not only that, but the LQ has actually worked me out of a fiction
drought. I’ve not written a short story in years—that I’ve finished, anyway.
Great feeling!
Today, I received word from “Cactus Heart Press” that my
poetry (which I submitted back in December) “did not fit with the editorial
selection this time.” This time? The wording implies that I submitted a
different body of poems that were acceptable. I did not. Still, at least the CH
suggested I place “this submission in another forum.”
I plan to write more stories, since I’ve pulled myself from
the dry spell, and see if maybe the world likes my stories more than my poems.
An experiment, really—something I’ve found that I enjoy. I love all the
experiment-type questions, too, like: What are the chances? What will happen if
you try this instead of that? I have a scientist brain, I guess.
Being a human being as well as a writer, I find that I seek
that connection with people—a support group, really. I felt really discouraged
today when a certain family member started calling my writing “flat,” which
wouldn’t bother me so much if he’d only included maybe a word, phrase, anything
that said he had faith in my ability. Nope, there wasn’t any. He only said I
was flat, needed to read Stephen King, and stop using so many adjectives. When
was the last time he read something of mine, anyway? Over a year or two, I
think. He even said that Nora Roberts wrote flat. When did he ever read her?
Reader, I know you’re probably thinking that I’m somewhat
shallow, for seeking a connection with people. Well, I’ve never been an
absolute loner. If I suddenly found myself stranded on an island, I’d be worse
than Tom Hanks: I’d find an emotional attachment to everything, much less a
soccer ball. Still, I sometimes wish that family wouldn’t crawl under my skin,
but—like someone told me today—I need an objective audience. I also need to
focus on the positive and never give up. When I write, I just need to ignore
the skeptics, take a deep breath, and jump in. The only support group I need
knows who she is, even if she sometimes thinks that I overlook her advice,
encouragement, and collaboration.
What’s in store for me next? I’m planning to submit here:
Wish me luck!
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