Neglecting Fiction

Every day in Trump’s America the line between fiction and fact becomes effaced. Not that that’s any excuse for neglecting my fiction, in fact it seems as good a reason as any to press on with it. I’ve got a non-fiction book under contract and that keeps me away from my mistress Muse in the “fake news” world.

It’s too bad, really. I’ve got a seventh novel well under way and I’ve got a potential publisher considering one (at last) for publication. The thing is, for a man being published is about the closest you can come to giving birth. Months of gestation, after having seeds planted inside, and perhaps then you have something to say. Something that will grow up beautiful.

As someone who has written literally millions of words, I’m always amazed at how difficult it is to find others who want to read them. The internet’s a crowded place. My daily commute to and from work forces me offline for a few hours a day, and it is a bit of a learning experience to cradle a book like holding somebody else’s baby.

Since my writing time is limited, and I have a non-fiction book with a deadline, I have to let the fiction go free for a while. 2017 has been the slowest publication year I’ve had in fiction since 2009. I simply haven’t had time to get the stories submitted. They’re still coming—I wrote one just last weekend. But who has time any more?

I’ve read that the earth is slowing down in its rotation speed. I personally think it’s speeding up. My bus schedule hasn’t changed, but since last year I have even less time than I used to. I keep thinking that vacation time will come and it will stop and I’ll have a chance to catch up. Then a non-fiction contract lands on my desk.

It’s not that I’m complaining. The boundary between fiction and fact barely exists at all.

Comments

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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