Will Write for Money

I suppose I should get over it. I feel mercenary about writing for money. Almost as if I’ve sold out. What a strange way to announce my first story accepted for publication for pay. Don’t get me wrong—I’m absolutely thrilled. I’ve received prize money for my writing before, but getting paid to have someone publish it is new.

This past week two bits of good news arrived on the same day. My story “Meh-Teh” was accepted by The Colored Lens, and they’re a paying venue. Simultaneously my story “Creative Writing Club” received honorable mention in Typehouse’s second biennial short fiction contest. I literally had to go for a jog after opening the emails just to clear my head.

You see, I’ve been writing fiction for forty years. I sent my first story in for publication a decade ago. It won a contest. Then the rejections began rolling in. I’ve lost track of how many there have been. Indeed, in this latest batch of stories I’ve sent out, I’ve already received multiple rejections. Two acceptances on the same day was almost like going to the miracle store.

Not only that, but two of the three stories recently accepted are Breck stories. Long before I knew that Stephen King had made up Derry, Maine, I had invented a town called Breck, in New Hampshire, where many of the weird things in my stories happen. I have maps of Breck and a list of well over 50 characters who live in the town, all of them in stories I’ve written. (I have a tremendous backlog.)

I’ve always wanted some of these Breck stories to see the light of other people’s eyes. It’s a kind of affirmation for the world-building I like to do. The laws of physics don’t always strictly apply in Breck. Monsters live there—inhuman, some of them. In fact, the narrator of my novel lived there.

A certain cynicism attends being paid for writing. Like an artist has sold out. Still, considering the many thousands of hours I put into my writing, it seems like a little pay is only fair. Besides, I still write what I want to write, whether anyone pays me for it or not. I guess I’m not so mercenary after all.

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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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