I haven’t blogged for a while, but it’s been quiet on the writing front. I keep writing stories, and they keep getting rejected.
I’ve submitted 47 times this year. 10 are currently in story limbo, 2 have been accepted, and 35 have accrued rejections. Some rejections were nice, some were snarky. (Even the minuscule amount of power editors have is enough to corrupt, it seems.) Some earned invitations for more work, others “just didn’t work” for the editor.
It’s not setting the world on fire, but I’m okay with it. Although earning respect or money would be great, I do enjoy writing for its own sake. I like having ideas and translating them into narratives, and the luxury of improving with each story. I also am lucky that my only deadlines are self-imposed. I can write whatever I want without worrying about my brand or what my agent or editor wants.
So far this year I’ve written a near future sci-fi story dealing with global warming, overpopulation, and the right to bear children. Another that is urban fantasy set in Seoul featuring killer buddhists. A third, also Lovecraftian, starring a pair of PCT hikers. And the fourth is also Lovecraftian, meshed with steampunk, set in 1920’s New Zealand. They’re all patiently waiting to find a good home. As the above-mentioned song says:
Sittin’ and starin’ out of the hotel window.
Got a tip they’re gonna kick the door in again
I’d like to get some sleep before I travel,
But if you got a warrant, I guess you’re gonna come in.*
*This doesn’t have much to do with writing or my state of being; it’s just a good song.