There’s nothing like paying the bills to ruin your day, is there?
Heavy heaving sigh. But there’s nothing else to be done about it, but it certainly is depressing to think about how much work went into earning that money only to see it disappear from sight so quickly. It’s disheartening, to say the least.
I had another short story rejected this week; not a big deal, really. I don’t take those kinds of things quite so personally any more; certainly not as hard as I used to. I do have a brief, momentary flash of why do I even bother, and then I get over it. I write stories that I want to write; ideas that I want to explore in story form. And while these stories certainly fit the definition of mystery as defined by the Mystery Writers of America (“fiction having to do with the commission of, the solving of, or the aftermath of a crime”), they aren’t really mystery stories. They’re crime stories, yes, but are more dark and about what can drive someone to commit a crime, or planning a crime, and so forth. This recently rejected story wasn’t even about a crime that had already happened; it was about the planning of one, and having to readjust the time-line because of an error made by one of the co-conspirators. I liked the idea, and I still like the story, but I am going to have to broaden my base of submissions to include places that aren’t necessarily are looking for a mystery story.
I do have a couple of stories still out there at major markets…markets that I basically consider to be brass rings; or, if you prefer a sports metaphor, I am swinging for the fences. I never get terribly disappointed when those hits wind up being caught in the outfield, or get thrown out at the plate. You have to try for the fences, you know, sometimes, but more often than not it’s just going to be a pop-fly right to an outfielder waiting with his glove.
It’s still disappointing, however–don’t get me wrong. You always hope.
A lot about this business is based in hope, really.
We are continuing to enjoy both Castle Rock and Sharp Objects, but the latter sometimes feels like it is being drawn out to make the series longer. But the acting is stellar, the writing is terrific, and the production values are pretty amazing. We will continue to watch.
And I started reading Eryk Pruitt’s What We Reckon, another Anthony finalist for Best Paperback Original. It’s his third novel, following Dirtbags and Hashtags. I’m not very far into it, but it’s got a really great noir feel to it that I suspect I am going to really enjoy.
And now, back to the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, everyone!