Just a quick update on events in my writer-ly life:

I have three stories in various states of review by magazines.  I’m also working on a longer story that would have limited markets (due to the length) but I’m hopeful.  There’s a local writing contest that I’m thinking about entering but I haven’t come up with a suitable idea just yet.  We’ll see.  Lately I’ve been concentrating on finding markets for my existing stories in hopes of getting published. 

Now, they say you should never talk about your rejections on your website or in your social networking, but I’m going to go out on a limb here.  I’m not going to say what stories have been rejected by whom; it’s not about complaining that “I suck” or that editors simply don’t see how brilliant I really am (I’m not).  What I am going to say is that I have, in fact, gotten rejections and that I’m going to try to wear these notices as badges of honor.  I wouldn’t have them if I hadn’t sent my babies out to be offered to the dragon of editorial review; a lot of writers don’t.  It’s a scary thing to do and I’m glad I did it, even it doing so hasn’t yielded success just yet.  I’m proud of the effort if not the actual rejection. 

Don’t get me wrong…there have been days where I have serious doubts about what the hell it is that I’m trying to prove; “Me, a writer?  Yeah, right.  Who’d want these little stories of mine anyway?  They obviously didn’t.”  Nobody likes rejections and writers even less so.  So, I try to put a positive spin on it my mind.  And eventually, I may even believe it.  Otherwise, I’ll just give up and that will be something I’ll regret even more than chaining my squalling newborn story to the rocks to be devoured…or, even worse, rejected.

I’ve been neglecting my serial stories (you know, the original purpose of this site) and my reviews.  Hopefully I’ll get on the ball and pick these back up.  Discipline, or the lack thereof, rears its ugly head again.  It’s a constant struggle and some weeks are better than others.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, the skies are darkening and I hear leathery wings beating against the wind.  I have to get a baby ready for the approaching beast. 

DISCLAIMER: If you’re an editor, don’t misunderstand me.  I’m not comparing you to a slavering beast of wanton fiery destruction and gold-hoarding compulsions.  I simply mean that I offer my creative off-spring to your dragon in hopes of placating something much more powerful and mysterious than myself.  I’m sure you’re all very nice and just want to find good stories for people to enjoy.  Seriously.  And take a look at my stories.  Much like babies, you’ll find them tasty with ketchup.