Life continues to suck for me. The weather is hot and humid, and I haven’t written or even read much lately. Today I opened my eyes and realized that almost half of the year is already gone. Time passes more quickly as I grow older and deteriorate. It’s almost as if I’m gaining momentum as I hurtle toward death – blink, and I’ll find myself staring at the bottom of a coffin lid.
Time to buckle down again, if for no reason than to distract me from my coming demise. I’m sending at least two stories (little pieces of my heart) out for rejection this week. One is called The Path and is my personal favorite, although I’ve read and revised it so many times I just want to find it a home so I never have to see it again. I have four rejections on it so far, and all I need is one more to make it eligible for inclusion in the Rejected Quarterly. The other is going to one of my favorite fiction magazines, Outer Darkness. I can’t send them The Path since it involves child abuse and they won’t consider stories with that subject. Before submitting the other story to OD, I want a new title. I’ve always had problems with titles (note the designation of this post), so I would appreciate any suggestions. Don’t worry that you haven’t read the story – just suggest something and I’ll run with it. Of course, if you actually do want to read it, just send me an e-mail and I’ll send back a copy.
In the meantime I will continue to read and write and research new markets. If anybody knows of a magazine looking for tales of woe, triumph, and exultation that may possibly include Giant Atomic Chickens, let me know.
5 comments:
Cheer up, Grant. I happen to think you are a talented writer. So *insert favorite curse word here* what the dumb magazine editors think!
(((Hugs)))
Grant...
Send me you stories, you know I'll enjoy them.
Of course I also think you're one sick SOB.
:)
Oh no...that's me.
:)
You know what, it may be the Aftershock talkin' but your picture makes you look really kinda sorta hot.
:)
It must be the Aftershock. That, and the fact that the picture is fifteen years old.
Your fifteen year old picture makes my fifteen year old picture look like a picture of an old bitch waiting around to meet her maker. You're still a hottie... I'm bettin on it.
Email on its way. I want to get me some of that title-less story.
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