Da da da duuum…. Da da da da duuuum…
Day 23. All semblance of sanity has been lost. Cannot leave my room. Cannot call for help. Walls are closing in. Voices are crawling into my ears. Running out of booze.
But I have approximately 24 000 words of novella, half an essay of solid quality and this jar of Nutella. So there’s that.
I’m feeling fairly proud of myself actually. I know I’m going to make the deadline and, more than that, I know it’s not terrible. I would even go so far as to call it innovative and *gasp* good. Whether it will be of interest to the planned publishers is another story entirely. Actually, they rejected a short story of mine only this morning, which doesn’t bode all that well.
However, I’m impressed by their response time; the website said lots of months and they got back to me in 23 days. Probably only because I submitted the second that they opened the portal on 1 May. Some would call that crazy. I would call it smart. It worked, didn’t it?
I’ve been rejected six times in the last three weeks. Twice in two days. All standard form letters. No one has accepted me in the last six months and, believe me, it’s not for lack of trying on my part. I think a large part of the problem might reside in arrogance; I refuse to submit anywhere that doesn’t offer SOME kind of payment, even if it’s just a token amount. Frankly, I don’t see the point. If they don’t pay, they aren’t an established and credible market. Even if I got stories into their badly typeset ebook anthologies, there would be no CV-bolstering prestige and no one would read the thing. I have better uses for my time and energy.
So here I am, endlessly submitting to the big six. Stubborn till the last.
One day, they’ll take me.
This novella could be the one.