High-traffic arias
I got my first rejection from the latest submissions to agents. I was happy to be able to submit three different novels. It didn't feel like all the hard work was paying off, but it did feel like all the hard work had produced some results. Not unlike when an old pair of pants fit, or a favorite, long-racked shirt fits far less snug and one can point to the work-out routine, the eating better.
I also finished a first draft of the pre-novel short story I had wanted to write. As usual, I discovered some things I hadn't quite considered when I started putting words on the page. So much so that I had to stop and re-evaluate everything that I was doing. There was some frantic gear shifting and some distressing noises from the transmission, but I did finally surmount the obstacle.
One of the things that complicated matters was the difference in timing between novels and short stories. With the vast difference in length, there comes the vast difference in pacing. I write poetry infrequently, but short stories even less often. There was a time when I was in a group, and we were encouraging each other to write new ones every week. I completed the trip down memory lane by going back and reading some of those stories. I had some far-fetched thoughts. But I didn't come away hating what I had attempted. Working-out doesn't always work-out, as it were.
There used to be a site where I could post such things. I actually did post a story I had there, one that had a positive review I failed to respond to. I was sad to have missed the opportunity to connect with someone who read my work. I was also sad to see the site have gone into a kind of captain-less limbo. But then I realized that if I wanted to share my stories, I could just post them here. It was a surreal moment, kind of like when a musician with an instrument stops on their journey and decides to sit down and play their music right where they were standing.
So, I have a good half dozen or so stories I decided to salvage with revisions, and they'll be coming soon.
I also finished a first draft of the pre-novel short story I had wanted to write. As usual, I discovered some things I hadn't quite considered when I started putting words on the page. So much so that I had to stop and re-evaluate everything that I was doing. There was some frantic gear shifting and some distressing noises from the transmission, but I did finally surmount the obstacle.
One of the things that complicated matters was the difference in timing between novels and short stories. With the vast difference in length, there comes the vast difference in pacing. I write poetry infrequently, but short stories even less often. There was a time when I was in a group, and we were encouraging each other to write new ones every week. I completed the trip down memory lane by going back and reading some of those stories. I had some far-fetched thoughts. But I didn't come away hating what I had attempted. Working-out doesn't always work-out, as it were.
There used to be a site where I could post such things. I actually did post a story I had there, one that had a positive review I failed to respond to. I was sad to have missed the opportunity to connect with someone who read my work. I was also sad to see the site have gone into a kind of captain-less limbo. But then I realized that if I wanted to share my stories, I could just post them here. It was a surreal moment, kind of like when a musician with an instrument stops on their journey and decides to sit down and play their music right where they were standing.
So, I have a good half dozen or so stories I decided to salvage with revisions, and they'll be coming soon.
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