unpublished writers

Rejection Letter from Our Stories


Finally heard back from the online magazine, Our Stories, today. It was a rejection, and I am not that surprised. Like most magazines, they see themselves, and their authors, as being “unique” but what I read was pretty run of the mill stuff. Nothing that pushed artistic envelopes and a lot of the authors were very young people, and it shows in the choices of topic and themes. However they offer to do a personal critique of all submissions and that made it worth the effort to submit. So I submitted a piece called “The White Boots” which I wrote from an anecdote that Rob told me about Shelley. It is a very short piece, but the editor at Our Stories felt it didn’t get to the point fast enough within the first two pages (not “tense” enough is how it was phrased) although he/she (Alex is kind of a gender neutral name) granted that I am good with dialogue and a good sense of language. He/she was confused by the reference I made to my main character wearing “runners” which is the Canadian term for running shoes. I make this reference early on and I guess the editor was so distracted by it, he/she never was able to get back into the story. Still it was a good exercise for me and I will go back through the story to see if I can tighten it as he/she suggested but my gut feeling is that the story is done and this person was just not the right person to read it. I have that problem myself. It was my downfall in workshopping classes because I had a hard time reading and critiquing other people’s work if I wasn’t able to connect to it (that and a lot of people fancy themselves writers and they clearly are not.)

I was issued the standard invitation to submit for a contest they are running (Matrix – my last rejection asked me to submit for their next issue. Something macabre – the sicker the better. Yeah. I’ll get right on that.) It was good to finally hear back. Now I can stop obsessing and find another possible home for this story. It’s one of my better ones, so there is a tiny bit of annoyance here, but Our Stories is really looking for angsty stuff, I think, based on what I read and is not the best home for me. C’est la vie.

Writer’s Block


I can write about anything but my stories right now it seems and I am a little frustrated. I guess it’s a good thing that I can write at all and so I will try to focus on the up side, but I feel a little like I am screaming into a wormhole. Maybe there are people on the other side who are hearing me but I feel a bit alone here on the blog. I have my loyal commenters and they help, but the anonymous come and read? and go without a sound, just a click of the counter. Maybe it is feed back I am missing? Maybe I should start a page for a piece of fiction? But I worry about exposing my fiction to the web on my own because my publishers consider stuff on blogs as having been previously published which is ironic since they don’t give you writing experience credit for being a blogger in the first place.

I still haven’t heard back on any of the stuff that is out and the superstitious side of me thinks it is because I haven’t gotten my residency card or a work permit yet. If I had one or the other, things would start to happen. I have gotten my first approval and Rob sent in the fee for my work permit which I should have by the end of this month or beginning of the next. The PR card itself is waiting on an FBI fingerprint background check. We didn’t do that back in October because it wasn’t clear that CIC wanted both that and a state check. Another example of how badly worded the application directions are. They have been sent and will take about a month to get back. Add to that another month for CIC to get the results and process them and we are now looking at June for residency at the earliest. Frustrating. 

My mood of the day is frustrated. It’s not spring. I can’t focus to write really. I feel fat. My child is crabby. And the coyotes are too afraid of Cat to eat her like we hoped they would. Seriously, we have a Cat that is too feral to keep indoors but too tame to dump in the woods and a fields all around us stocked with coyote. Since it has been warm, Cat has been living outdoors instead of in the garage and not one blessed thing has happened to her expect perhaps she is keeping the coyotes away from our yard. I kid you not, even the toms in the neighborhood are afraid of her, so the idea that she would frighten wilder animals is not that far-fetched.

Jordan was home for supper last night. She brought her “friend”. He is an ex-boyfriend whom I am not fond of simply because of the things that Rob and Farron have related to me. Jordan has a way of attracting decidedly off-beat, and in need of social skills, young men. She was telling us about the latest to be attracted to her, a young man with two inoperable brain tumors who works at the liquor store with her. He has attached himself to her like an extra appendage and she is too polite to reclaim her space. And it’s not just the brain tumor. She would feel sorry for him regardless because he is just one of those people who appears to have been raised by wolves but probably just had your average two people who shouldn’t have ben parents upbringing that so many of us get stuck with. Except that most of us survive that and he didn’t. The brain tumors are just icing on this rather untasty cake.

Katy was quite taken with Jordan’s friend because he played games with her before dinner. She gets so excited when either of the older girls comes to visit but she doesn’t understand that they are much too old to be the sisters that she longs for. Jordan’s friend promised to play games again after dinner but instead sat at the table chatting – as adults are wont to do. After a while of waiting patiently in the living room, she ran upstairs and burst into tear. I went up and comforted her. Her feelings were hurt and it’s hard to explain to her that she just isn’t going to have a sister kind of relationship with Jordan or Farron or anyone they bring home. That is just something she will have to learn over time. There is too much of a gap and despite their willingness, neither of the older girls is going to be able to bridge it given the short amount of time Katy sees them and that will likely only get worse as they get older too.

Environment Canada promised sun today and it’s 2:30 and only just peeking. I am trying to be patient but I want spring. I want warmth and sun and dry.

Writing and Marriage


Rob discovered another blogger for me to add to my blogroll for you – my sporadic audience – because I don’t maintain the blogroll for me people. I surf blogs when Rob clues me to new ones that are interesting or funny or really out there in the zone of WTF and then if they seem worth the effort, I link them. But I seldom go back unless I have some sort of personal connection and even that won’t hold me if the blogger is one of those who only writes when they have something to say. The point of blogging is to say something regularly. Even if it is dumb and poorly written (okay, I don’t mean the last part really – try to be well-written). The blogger is a woman who makes a real living blogging and is now inches away from being a published author. Her name is Heather and the blog is called Dooce. If you think of me as being embarrassingly TMI, then you will be truly appalled by her. Personally, I am in awe of such fearless writing and self-exposure. You can’t be a blogger of note and not be willing and able to do this, which is why I am not a blogger of note. That and the fact that I don’t think I am as left of center as she is. Again, total awe of people who can live their lives in such a manner, but my Chinese astrological sign rules me in regards to such things. It will simply not allow my Greek nature to get out of control. Water rabbits absolutely trump Archers every day of the week. Besides even when my life was most like a soap opera, I was still more “normal” by white people suburban standards than Heather seems to have been. But go and read about her for yourself.

 

The post I have linked to is about her publishing – of which I am in envy and her analogy for her marriage. I don’t know that I have given my marriage enough thought as of yet to find some cultural analogy that epitomizes it. I am pretty sure that it would not be an MTV reality show about a too rich kid and his bodyguard, but that is just how I don’t roll. Though I often compare myself to Scarlet O’Hara the truth is that while I can completely empathize with her exasperation at the silly morays of society when it comes to women’s behaviour in particular and I get her abhorrence of those who would rather wallow than help themselves, I am not as swallow or blinkered about myself. Her lack of depth is the whim of her creator. Margaret Mitchell cleverly made Scarlet the persona of the Southerner of her times. But for me it is her feelings of imprisonment and constraint that ring most true. Rhett is my Rob and when I told him this he was a bit surprised “Why? He walks out on her in the end.” Which is true but not what I see in the character that reminds me of my husband. Rhett is the realist. He is amused by Scarlet’s impatience and her lack of understanding that while society can have all the rules it likes when it comes to personal choices and behaviors, the bottom line is that they are personal. We are in control of ourselves – reactions and decisions. We can’t be caged without our consent. Furthermore, it is pointless to rant about things we can’t control. There is do or do not. Accept or decline. In the end we sleep with ourselves and the ones we love most and best. My Rob has is moments but for the most part he is not worried about what others think or about societal rules that exist for the many and are indifferent to the few. He is unflappable and has an acerbic take on much of passes for civilization. Not that I think that one literary couple can serve as an analogy for a real flesh and bones relationship. There are too many aspects of a person and that multiples when you join with another. The ways we complement each other. Our love. Our lust. Our friendship. I don’t even know where to begin. How to find tangibles that could explain “us” to us let alone to people who know us only through me and my writing.

 

Rob and I were talking about the puzzle that is marriage as we walked earlier this evening. How some people grow and learn the give and take and others just don’t seem to get it. It can’t just be love. Can it? There has to be more to the fact that some people can see to the heart of who they are individually and as a team while it escapes so many of the rest. Maybe it is as easy as being able to see yourself and your mate in the antics of a TV characters or the lovers in the pages of a novel written before either of you was born.