Famous Neighbors

Those few who read my fiction generally comment on my satire. Those who actually know me might call it cynicism. Whatever one may choose to label it, it is a sense that things in our entrepreneurial world just don’t make sense.

I’ve held a number of jobs in my life and have come to realize that just about all of them have a single purpose: to help those above me get wealthy. I’m a daydreamer, not a corporate climber. And yet I wonder what might happen if wealth had to face reality.

A number of years ago I read about a sitting president (I can’t remember who it was, but it was before Obama) who couldn’t even guess near the price of a loaf of bread. Those above us, it seems, have forgotten what it feels like here on the bottom.

When the swamp monsters move in, those of ample means don’t know what to do. Discrimination is frowned upon. Yet, clearly, they can’t let monsters be monsters. And so “Famous Neighbors” (Defenestration) came to be.

The protagonist, à la Stephen King, is a writer. He is, of course, a successful writer. I’ve been reading how some of the most “notable” writers of today have obscenely grotesque bank accounts. I have to believe their art suffers.

Go ahead, call it sour grapes. I warned you I was cynical.

I write because it is who I am. Although I’ve been producing fiction since the 1970s, it has earned me a total of $15; $5 net. My novels lie unpublished, and most of my stories unseen. I am the swamp monster.

Voices of the unheard come to life in the unpublished. I follow the best seller lists, but not religiously. Not too much profound makes its way very high. I’ve known romance writers who make a living off of it. And they can call themselves writers.

I wonder what the magic formula is. How do you get an editor interested in your work? Maybe you need to show up on the doorstep. Just be yourself. Swamp monsters will always get attention.

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Patterns

There’s a pattern I’m noticing. For fiction publishers. Even if you aim low you’ll find it a struggle. Part of the reason is the pattern. Lots of websites list publishers. The smaller, hungrier presses either eventually close or get to a place where they require an agent to get in. That’s the kiss of death. Although my stories have won prizes, and been nominated for prizes, I can’t get an agent interested. I’ve queried well over a hundred, so the agent route is one of diminishing returns. This too is a pattern. Back to the smaller presses. I check many lists. What I write, you see, is highly idiosyncratic. It’s literary but it’s weird. Publishers don’t know what to do with it. If a smaller press published stuff like this, I’d find it. The pattern includes writers who never get discovered. Ironically, a number of editors of fiction literary magazines (mostly online) tell me they enjoy my wor...

Creative Righting

Rejection of my writing is a rejection of my imaginative world. That’s why I was cheered by the acceptance of one of my stories this week. That makes number 31. I’ve been working on a lot of fiction lately, even as nonfiction book number 6 is going to press. The ideas are still there, and bizarre as ever, but publishing venues just aren’t welcoming. The other day I had lunch with a professor whose wife is also a professor. She just had her first novel published, and so he pointed me to her indie publisher. I went to their website to learn that they’re closed to submissions. I have to admit that my latest accepted story, “Creative Writing Club,” was probably given the green light because I know the editor. That seems like a pretty dicey way to get any notice, doesn’t it? You have to know the right people even in the low circulation world. My fiction is difficult to classify. It’s got speculative elements to it. ...

Maybe Okay

A couple pieces of encouraging news, perhaps, dear struggling writers. I had a couple short stories accepted for publication in recent weeks. As a fellow writer recently said, “You've got to keep trying. Somebody will like what you wrote.” That’s a bit of sunshine. And it’s likely true. But the stories: “The Crossing,” about two men in a boat trying to cross the Atlantic, was accepted by JayHenge Publishing. JayHenge is a small, but paying publisher. I was flattered when they wanted it for their Masque & Maelström: The Reluctant Exhumation of Edgar Allan Poe anthology. Being associated with Poe in any way feels good. The second story, “St. Spiders’ Day,” had been brewing in my mind for years—yes, this is a long game! A friend pointed me to The Creepy podcast. Since the story hadn’t been written, I followed their guidelines of what they wanted. It worked. I recently heard a successful wri...

K. Marvin Bruce

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