Those of you who have been following my saga toward professionalization know that earlier this month I mentioned a short story contest that I expected good news from. They told all of us hopeful contestants in their guidelines that today is the last day to hear from them, otherwise take their silence as rejection.
While great as plot devices, I don’t believe in 11th hour reprieves. This rejection was a bit disheartening in the sense that I submitted two stories to them, one fantasy and one SF, and I was confident that either one of them was unique and enjoyable enough to win first place. In my ever expanding body of work, these are some kickass reads. But here I am, at the 11th hour, the silence deafening, with the unaffirmed conclusion that neither story placed.
What else is left for these two stories? They have returned to base camp defeated, proud marines who could not take their hill. But there are other hills. The war goes on.
The SF piece I’m sending to Asimov’s. The fantasy piece goes to Writers of the Future. Yeah, I know what I said about submitting your stories here first. It’s just that when I already have on in for last quarter and this quarter and all I can do is wait until next quarter, well, I get a bit too antsy to chill the hell out for three months.
Meanwhile, it’s not all bad news in the trench. I did get accepted for the Triangulation Anthology Series. Every year they collect the best work they can find according to their theme. This year’s theme was “Last Contact.” These guys have high production values for their anthology and a distinguished palette when it comes to stories, so when I got the news I was pretty stoked. I get to appear in an anthology that has been host to writers like Cat Rambo! Her stories rock but her name is EPIC… next to her byline everyone else sounds as bland as bran flakes on Monday morning. Well, not Minister Faust, but I digress…
It’s the 11th hour as March exhales it’s dying breaths. I look out from the trench and brood. On one front my soldiers have been riddled with bullets. Its the shock of seeing the ones you expected to take no prisoners when you sent them out there getting turned into casualties that’s off-putting. But on another front I’ve broken through, that much closer to my goal of pro writer. Sharing namespace with established pros, with cooler names than my parents could think to bless me with. Every success breaks the gridlock.
What do you guys think of Nicodemus Beamon?