Little victory

I want to demonstrate why, despite the many rejections and deafening silence at times, I will I keep writing and keep sending pieces out. This is the story of a short story.

Sure, there's a price to writing. I take vitamin d tablets due to lack of sunlight. Writing costs time and money. What investor analysts call opportunity cost. While I'm writing I can't do other things.

When I’m writing I can’t do other things, like get sunshine. Investor analysts call this opportunity cost. And it’s why I take Vitamin D.

There was a thing, a scrap of an idea pullulating away in its own stew in a quiet corner of a sprawling mess of a manuscript composed of things thrown together, and other things that flowed like the historical novel it was all trying to become. All this little section had, at this point, was a title, and some random paragraphs. I can’t remember exactly when I wrote it. It must have been years ago. I set it aside as it was so different.

One day, much later, I read this page or two and it was struggling for its independence. I could see how it could have legs to stand on its own as a story. So while now it had a pulse, it didn’t yet have a sustained idea. So I gave it one and a structure appeared. I worked it over and lo, a proper story developed, as the narrator and the idea merged into a single arc. This took a while and it wasn’t all in one go. Eventually, though, despite being a floaty, experimental and slightly arcane piece, it was ready.

Perhaps I should make it an ambition: to have writing rejected by all the countries of the world.

An ambition forms: to have my writing rejected by all the countries of the world?

It was submitted hither and thither, over months and months to places where editors requested something a bit unusual. And? It was quietly rejected or declined without a murmur. However, the last rejection came with feedback. I’d forgotten it had been an option.

I read it, half-agreed with it and half despaired at people’s ability to appreciate metaphor or art, because it wasn’t just strung together. But I went back, edited and rewrote parts of, almost as an anti-response. You want the story grounded? I’ll argue why the narrator can’t be and I’ll demonstrate it even more. (I do say I can be contrary.)  If anything it became more literary and arcane with Latin tags and all. I kept almost everything and expanded it, linking more of the allusions.

Then I spied somewhere that might appreciate it. Sent it off and within days, voila, it was accepted.

The end.

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About Becadroit

A writer compelled to review Doctor Who episodes and art exhibitions, while also commenting on writing and submitting short stories and working on novellas.
This entry was posted in Notes on Writing Related Stuff, Stories, Writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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