Category: Writing

  • A Polite Rejection Letter to Kilgore Trout

    At the start of this year, I decided that I would actively work towards getting one of my short stories published in a lit magazine. To accomplish this task, I came up with a schedule that I would follow during the week, you know, while the kid was in school. In this schedule, I had time set aside to write, re-write, outline, and do research for stories I was working on. Also, I made time to do research on publications that I wanted to submit to, and submitted as well. It was a good system, as I did get a solid amount of work done in a very short time, which left me feeling productive. Now, for Summer, I stopped following the schedule because the kid was home, and vacations, and other home projects. After Labor Day, when the kid returns to school, I’ll get back to my work flow.

    I bring this up because, even though I haven’t actively worked on anything for two months, I’m getting responses from all the magazines I submitted to at the start of the year. I have yet to be accepted by anyone, no shock there. When I get the rejection email, it’s a form letter, which is to be expected, and I take no offense to it. During my time working for a publisher, and it was a very tiny publisher, we were inundated with submissions, and it was hard to stay on top of it. You needed form letters. So, it goes…

    Yet, the one I got yesterday has caused me to wonder me, slightly. It was the type of rejection letter that thanked me for submitted, but unfortunately they couldn’t find a place for my story in the magazine, and wished me luck in the future. All pretty standard stuff, and I don’t believe insincerely meant. Then the letter took a turn. They told me I was welcomed to submit again, that they accepted simultaneous submissions as well, and added a list of websites that contained lists of other publications to submit to. I took this to mean that they were trying to be encouraging – that there are hundreds, if not thousands, of other publications out there. I thought it was a nice touch. I spent twenty years doing theatre, an industry that is built on persevering rejection, so getting told no is nothing new.

    What I started thinking about this morning was the lists, of lists, of lists of publications out there. In essence, these publications wouldn’t exist unless there was a bottomless collection pond of unpublished stories to draw from. I know of no publication or publisher that has a lack of material submitted to them; lack of talent might be a different story. There are probably millions of unpublished writers in America. People we may never read, or ever know of. Billions of words and ideas that never get beyond a small circle of friends and family.

    At moments like this, I start to wonder if there aren’t just millions of Kilgore Trouts running around. I mean, minus publishing stories in porn mags, but I think you get the idea. Maybe there should be a Kilgore Trout Society for unpublished writers. Their symbol could the asterisk.

    (You know, if you liked it, please take a second to “like” it, or comment or share. There is a version of me that really needs the validation.)

  • Stopping the Publishing Monopolies, and Bookstores

    First of all, you should read “American Literature Loses Out to Consolidation,” by Richard Howorth which was published in The New York Times today.

    That having been said, my favorite bookstore to go to is the Stand down on 12th Street. I’ve started taking the kid there, and I feel like I’m completing one of those “All My Life’s a Circle” moments where I was taken to bookstores as a kid, and I now do that for my kid. One of the biggest reasons I love going to the Stand is that it smells like a bookstore; it smells like stacks and stacks of books. And now, slowly, no matter where I travel to, I have started seeing little bookshops again. In little downtowns, or strip malls, bookstores – new and used – are becoming present again.

    I worked, for a very short time, for an independent publisher right out of college, and I tip my hat to people to run small publishing houses; you only do it because you love it, not because you want to become rich. At those houses, everything seems like it’s on the verge of failing, people outside of the business treat you like your crazy, and there is no good business model other than being bought out by one of the “big houses” one day. But, I must add, some of the smartest people I have ever met work in small publishing.

    And these small publishers are where almost all authors get started. They are the farm leagues of the publishing world, and they are vital to the ecosystem, especially when it comes to giving new voices, subjects, and people an opportunity. The more the big house become centralized, the more likely they take up the shelf space at all level of bookstores, forcing out the little guys, and thus killing off anything new from being discovered.

    Keep this in mind when you bookshop. Look to see who is publishing that book you are looking at. Every dollar truly helps the little guy.

    (Say! If you happen to find that this blog are some knees of bees, be a pal and give it a like, a comment or a share! You’d be doing this Daddy-o a true solid!)

  • Personal Review: second place – a novel, by Rachel Cusk

    I’m getting back into the swing of reading. Like all things in life, if you want to good at something, you have to make it a habit. Make time for it, work at it, do it even when you don’t want to. I’m getting back into reading shape. I read Ezra Klein’s essay “I Didn’t Want It  to Be True, but the Medium Really Is the Message,” and I agree with him that the internet, and especially my smartphone, has dampen my ability to focus and read a book. Hence why I feel like I have to work at reading.

    At the start of the Summer, I took the kid to The Strand, so we could load up on books while on vacation. Though I didn’t go there looking for it, I came across Rachel Cusk’s newest novel – second place. I became a big fan of Cusk’s writing several years ago when I read her Outline trilogy, which left me feeling inspired to write again. So, when I see anything new by her, I gobble it up.

    The story of second place is straightforward; the narrator, M, invites a painter, L, to stay at her and her husband’s guesthouse during Covid. L isn’t a particularly warm or friendly person, and his interactions with M, M’s husband and daughter end up acting as a catalyst for change and introspection.

    What I enjoyed about the novel, which I find true for Cusk’s writing, is that there is such a wonderful serene sense of just pondering life; asking questions of oneself, and looking for answers and discoveries. Her writing is almost stream of consciences, but without all the pretension that can come with that style. The narrator, M, takes in life, and remembers things and stories, and she also describes her feelings about the development of her relationship with her husband and daughter. M is doing what I do with my life, and I hope other people do as well, which is I think about the people and events that have transpired, and how it all has affected us. Not in a narcissistic way, but more is a sense of awe, gratitude even, for the ability to have a life with people we care about, and a tiny bit of resignation and loss for the people that aren’t there anymore.

    (Say! If you are a person who finds these words which I have strung together entertaining, please take a moment to like, comment or share this blog. You’re high school English teacher will thank you!)

  • Blog, Journal, and Fiction Updates

    Some funny things happened on the blog the other day. The first was that someone, or maybe a bot, sat on the home page and looked at it 55 times. It was great for my paltry stats, which if I am lucky, I will get four views/visitors a day. So, one person looking at my page 55 times was cool, but at the same time, if you were a person, what the hell were you looking for? The home page is pretty basic, and not very informative. Were you a person that I know? Were you looking for your name? Odds are it was a fluke, a bot, or something that wasn’t human related. I mean, who looks at a home page 55 times over the course of an hour? Anyway, just thought I’d get that off my chest.

    As for the journal, I have been having issues with it. The issue I speak of is writing in it. This is clearly an after effect of getting out of the habit of writing. Over the past two days, I have had opportunities to take a half hour and write in it, but I have passed. I came up with some excuse of why I should put it off, and I did. I wanted to blame the Summer schedule I have with the kid, as I am with her all day now, but that excuse comes down the blaming the kid, and well, that makes me a shitty parent. (I don’t want to be a shitty parent.) No, no this one is on me. Writing was easier when the kid was in school, that’s a fact, but back in the Covid days when we were all up on each other, I was able to make the time, and that also is a fact. I need to make the time, and on a small level, that annoys me. Making time, means that it’s work. And if work annoys me, then that means I’ve become lazy again. Hence, why I am annoyed.

    And if I haven’t been writing in the journal, then I clearly haven’t been working on the fiction. I got four stories that are still out with magazines. I am expecting to hear back from them in the next month. I’m not trying to be a downer, but odds are they will be rejected. What I want to do is go out and submit to more places, but I am coming around to the idea that I might want to do another round of rewrites. That will take time. I have a plan in my mind of what I want to do, and where I can tighten things up. But, again, I need to make the time.

    (Say! If this blog tickles you in a fancy way, please bestow me an appreciated like, share, or comment. It will make the bot-gods happy, and keep me on the right side of the River Styx!)

  • Reforming the Writing Habit

    July was a busy month with vacations, and the kid did some traveling with friends, and I had a huge home improvement project to finish. And I started watching Vikings, which I am finding really entertaining.

    Something had to give, and that was writing. After two years of writing nearly every day, I decided I should take a break. There was a nagging thought in the back of my head that if I took a break then in a roundabout way, I was admitting that writing isn’t that important to me.

    Maybe…

    The other thought I had was that everyone needs time away, a respite, time off. I have been working at all of this, blogging every weekday, working on stories and submitting them to magazines, and I especially have been journaling constantly. I have put down close to 500,000 words from July 2020 to July 2022.

    But, I got out of the habit of writing every day. Just the mechanical act of sitting down, either with the computer or a journal, and putting down thoughts and ideas. If I felt like doing it or not, I did it. Out of everything I had tried over these past two years, I think that was the achievement I was most proud of; I had a good habit of writing each day.

    With the time off, I have to restart this habit all over again. Maybe I’ll fall right back into it. Maybe I have to work at it again. Maybe none of this really is a big deal.

    Maybe.

    Now, I just got to start going to the gym again.