Fellow writer Amanda C. Davis seems to be my main motivator for submitting stories this year. She’s great about sharing submission opportunities in her Twitter feed, and she mentioned one a couple of weeks ago that appealed to me, mainly because it was flash fiction (something I have a good bit of lying around in my writing archives).  As a result of her tweet, I dug out and polished up a couple of short pieces and sent them out for consideration. I also finished editing another flash story I’d been fiddling with and sent that one out too. I’m still waiting to hear back about the first two; the latter one, sadly, got rejected in record time, which dampened my sense of accomplishment quite a bit. But at least I’m trying… and trying unsuccessfully is better than not trying at all.
Tag: flash fiction
Schrödinger’s submission
Having stories sitting in virtual slush piles can be frustrating; in fact, it can drive you crazy if you let it. Waiting to hear back from editors can stretch on for what seems like forever. And while you wait, your manuscript is like Schrödinger’s Cat. Is it alive? Is it dead? You have no way to know; until you receive that response, the manuscript is still alive in potentia: it could be sold… but maybe not. Maybe it’s dead (to that market, at least) and you just don’t know it yet.
The best approach is not to think about it. But for so many people — newer writers especially — it’s hard to do.
A wiser, more accomplished author than myself recently tweeted that his wife said he was always, always on the web site The Grinder. I could relate, because at the time, I was checking it far too often myself. The Grinder is wonderful and terrible; it helps you organize your submissions, keeping track of what story is currently awaiting judgment from what market, and it shows you lots of interesting and sometimes helpful information, like when said market last sent out responses, how long their average response time is, and so on. But if you’re at all prone to obsessive thinking, The Grinder is not necessarily your friend. (I had it bookmarked on my toolbar until I realized that having it in plain sight was just feeding my anxiety. The bookmark is now tucked away in a folder where it’s not as obvious.)
So how do you deal with Schrödinger’s manuscript?
For a start, pick your markets carefully. Before you put your cat in that box, do your research. What’s the typical response time for that market? If it’s three months or longer, you want to know that before you submit and be mentally prepared for the wait.
Next, don’t make assumptions based on response time. Just because a market is holding your story longer than normal, that doesn’t mean they’re going to buy it. Don’t start writing your byline or mentally crafting Twitter announcements. Pick out some backup markets and work on new stories.
But don’t assume that cat is dead, either. Those thoughts will only get you down — and you’ll start getting annoyed at the editor for holding on to your manuscript for so long when you could be shopping it someplace else.
Really, it all boils down to keeping your mind off of it. Send it out and forget it; look for new opportunities, new inspiration. Start new stories. Live your life.
I realize that’s easier said than done, but right now, it’s the best strategy I have. If I think of something better, I’ll let you know.
Small steps
Well, I doubled my submissions for March, sending out two flash pieces — the one that was rejected by Daily Science Fiction in February, plus a newly revised story I’d never tried to publish. I spent some time in February looking through old work and discovered a few gems that just needed a bit of tweak and polish, and this piece was one of them. I’ll continue to mine those older resources as I have time; it would be nice to resurrect the stories I still like and see them published.
I still haven’t heard back on either of the March submissions, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed! I’m bound to get a “yes” one of these days.
On a roll
It’s been a very long time since I tried to get anything published. I had a few stories printed in obscure places years ago, but after Hurricane Katrina, I just stopped sending things out. It just didn’t seem important anymore.
Last summer, I wrote and sent out one story, a flash piece with the characters from my novel. It got rejected, which was somewhat expected given the competitiveness of the market; still, it was profoundly disappointing. A friend read the story and liked it, but wasn’t entirely sure it was working. So I put it aside and focused on the novel instead.
Fast forward a few months, and I spotted an opportunity that interested me — still very competitive, but I wanted to give it a try. (If you don’t believe me about “very competitive,” read the recap from the editor.) I knew it would be difficult, since I was still editing novel bits for a critique and I was behind schedule — and then my body decided to get sick two days before Christmas. One virus led to another, and I was sick for three weeks. I decided I’d have to take a pass on submitting.
But lo! An eleventh hour reminder from Cat Rambo inspired me, and I decided to give it a shot anyway. I pulled out the most likely candidate from my abandoned stories folder, gave it a 90 minute edit, and sent it on its way.
As I suspected, it didn’t make the cut, but the rejection didn’t really hurt. Editor C.C. Finlay said some kind things about it, which helped, and I think the knowledge that I rushed it out (and therefore can do better) made a difference too. I haven’t gone back to it yet because I’ve got a new story underway — but I will, in time, because I still feel like the story itself is good, even if I haven’t told it properly yet.
Now we’re in February, and — amazingly enough — I’ve sent out a second submission, thus doubling last year’s rate. Yesterday afternoon, Cat Rambo and Amanda C. Davis were impressing me on Twitter with their amazing submission stats, and then last night, I was hunting for something and ran across a flash humor piece I’d written a few years ago. It was a contest entry, and I’d never considered submitting it anywhere else. But it still made me laugh, so I tweaked it a very little bit and sent it out. I have no idea whether the market in question will bite, but I got a little rush from giving it a try. So we’ll see what happens.
And while I doubt I’ll reach the dizzy levels that Amanda and Cat maintain, hopefully I can make a habit of sending out more than one story a year.
Fingers crossed.
