A Short Note

In an effort to get more writing done, in general, I’ve downloaded a very official looking 31 Days of Writing challenge.  Now…I am notoriously bad at any kind of daily challenge.  I usually make it a couple days in and then forget or give up.  Sometimes I make it a week.

Sooooo…I’ve decided not to put any pressure on myself for this.  I’m going to do it, but if I miss a day, I’m not going to sweat it.  So, prepare yourself for 31 days…that may or may not be consecutive (most likely not) and may or may not be any good (hopefully yes in this case).

Ta!

Alright, alright, I’m writing stuff

Today I rather feel like the world was trying to tell me something.  Or maybe it’s less that it was trying to tell me something and more that it was trying to beat me over the head and make me take notice.  I can be rather dense at times.  I’d been kicking around the idea of starting a blog on my birthday and doing the 365 thing.  Try to write something every day, you know?  With my track record that usually lasts about a week.  Maybe two if I’m really dedicated.  But the world is spinning and throwing things at my head and I felt obligated to do something about it.  To put something out there.  To look into the Abyss of the internet and see what looks back.

Too pretentious?  Feels too pretentious.  I’ll make a fart joke later or something to counteract, just in case.

I haven’t written much of value lately, and that’s been getting me down.  The Book sits about 3/4ths finished and gathering dust.  I’ve written about a thousand words this month.  That’s all.  And a depressing thousand words that will probably have to be rewritten.  I blame work, rather steadfastly, for keeping me so busy that by the time I sit down to write have neither the mental capacity nor the inclination to do anything much beyond watch YouTube videos and shove food into my face.  But I think it’s more than that.  I don’t think it’s the dreaded writer’s block, I think it’s just a general apathy, something I’m not entirely sure how to combat.

I need a win, that’s what I need.

Enter the Universe:  5 months ago (give or take) I submitted a short story to Tor.com that, I contend, was the result of far too much stress, not enough sleep, and reading way too many of Neil Gaiman’s short stories back to back without buffers in between.  Now,  I don’t know if this is true for everyone or if it was my own personal world view, but I looked at Tor as the unattainable pinnacle for a first time writer.  I submitted with a fair amount of certainty that I would get a rather speedy rejection.  However, none came.  According to their guidelines, as I remember them, a rejection should come within the first three months.  If stories make it through that screening process, it could take another four before final decisions were made.  Naturally, I put it out of my mind.  No sense in stressing over it when it could take up to 7 months for me to know anything.

Now, today, as I was sitting at my desk, looking for a distraction amidst the craziness that is my day to day work life, I picked up my new copy of Gaiman’s Trigger Warning.  I was flipping through the first few pages to get to the introduction and what stares me in the face?  A review of Gaiman from Tor.com.  On a whim, I went to check the status of my story and nope, still not rejected.  But the interesting thing is that Tor, it seems, is no longer going to be accepting unsolicited short fiction.  My submission was a scant two months before the cut off date.  There was an assurance that all stories submitted would be responded to.  In short, if they accept my story, I will be one of the last.  I will be a bookend for an era, among the last to get this particular feather in their cap.  I could be published by the venue that has given starts to some of my favorite authors, and I could be one of the very last to do so in this way.  It’s a little thrilling to consider, and suddenly my fear that they will reject me is a lot greater than it was before.

Flipping a few pages further into the book, a title caught my eye.  The thing about Cassandra.  Well, Mr. Gaiman.  What is the thing about me?  Is this some sign from the universe that my favorite author would call me by name moments after reminding me of a story I haven’t thought about in nearly four months?  Is all hope for my future as a writer not lost in the inexorable pull of the YouTube, Wikipedia, and Facebook games?

I shall write today.  And more than this overly flowery introduction into day to day life.  I’m going to write, and even if it’s bad and has to be scrapped, at least it’ll be something.  And the world is always more beautiful after you’ve made something that wasn’t there before, right Mr. Gaiman?

I never did make that fart joke.  Perhaps tomorrow.