Pushcart Nomination

Thanksgiving seems to be an appropriate time to express my gratitude to the editors of Calliope. Apart from being (to date) the only literary magazine to actually print one of my stories (others, I am grateful, post them online), the editors have nominated “Initiating an Apocalypse” for a Pushcart Prize.

I’m enough of a realist to know that my chances of actually winning a prize are slim, but it is nice when a story previously rejected many times is seen to have some potential. I suspect, but I may be wrong, that writers don’t submit material unless they believe it is good enough to publish.

Still, being declined repeatedly wears not only on the ego, but on the soul itself. It’s easy to feel like a poser or mountebank trying to pass yourself off as a writer. Still, somewhere deep down, we believe.

At times I seriously question whether I should keep at this at all. The ideas, however, burst out regardless. Either I will catch them or they will fall fatally to the ground. Some I never try to publish. The few I do, I believe in. I clap my hands and wish.

I recently reorganized my electronic files so that I could keep my finished (at least in draft) stories from those still in process. I was somewhat surprised to learn that I had some 45 finished pieces (and probably double that in various stages). Some I’ve sent out and wearied of the rejections.

But Calliope gives me hope. “Initiating an Apocalypse” was my most officially rejected story. Someone eventually saw the value in it. For that I’m thankful. Perhaps among the dozens of others rejected there are some gems as well.

I write to make sense of a life that refuses to make any on its own. And I live for it. Certainly work does not give any meaning. And a simple email saying, “you’ve been nominated for a Pushcart Prize” is an example of resurrection.

Comments

Dusty

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Maybe you’ve noticed this too. When you step away from fiction writing for a while, your creativity becomes flaccid. I’ve had to step away from this blog for a while because I was writing my sixth nonfiction book. God, I’ve missed fiction! Now that I’ve entered that phase of waiting for publishers to respond, I’ve turned my limited writing time back to fiction. I submitted a couple of stories this week and am waiting to hear about those as well. When you’re a writer, waiting is a way of life. Opening my software where I store my fiction stories, I was amazed by how many I found. Some of them are bad—so bad that they’ll never (rightfully) be published. Some are surprisingly good and have been sitting around while I finished up my nonfic. The vast majority, however, are unfinished. Some years back I realized that when I’m writing in the heat of inspiration but don’t have time to finish a story that I need to write down where I...

K. Marvin Bruce

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