Following Instructions

I have another blog. That one, under my real name, has fewer readers than this one. Unlike the piece you’re reading at the moment, this is an occasional note. I post on the other blog daily. Interestingly I’ve had publishing professionals tell me that’s what they like to see. Funny.

Perhaps it doesn’t seem like much, but coming up with discrete, intelligent (I hope!) things to say every day, for over a decade, should demonstrate willingness to work hard. When I started the other blog I had lots of followers. Now I have few.

I know, I know! If I were in your place I’d be saying, “Maybe your writing sucks.” Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn’t. The point is without someone willing to help we all spin in obscurity.

Someone I know online recently published a book on a topic in which I also publish. He has tons of followers. I don’t. He also has a university post and thus an institution behind him. That’s the difference, I suspect.

The idea of being a voice crying in the wilderness is attractive. To a point. By my calculations I have spent tens of thousands of hours writing. When pieces get published the editors gush over how good they are. Then they disappear.

I’m pretty critical of myself. Most writers are, I think. (Critical of themselves, I mean, not critical of me, although they could be!) We deal with rejection on a massive scale, all the while being told to believe in ourselves. We must be made of rubber.

I’ve got about six stories out for consideration at the moment. Several more are written and awaiting that rare week with two weekends in a row to get the time to send them out. I’m not even allowed to tweet on work time.

Writing’s a tough business. I spend far more money on books than I earn by publishing. It would seem that this rusty wheel is bound to turn sometime. On either blog will do.

Comments

Dusty

My, this thing is dusty. My fans—hi, Mom!—perhaps believe me to have perished in the pandemic. No, it was nonfiction’s fault. Since the pandemic began I’ve had two nonfiction books published and have written a third. With a nine-to-five job something’s got to give. Unfortunately it’s been fiction. Well, the groundhog didn’t see his shadow yesterday, so it must be safe to come out. I shuffled away the rejection notes and began submitting again. I’ve got a backlog of weird stories and maybe some new publishers have emerged? The thing is, don’t you just hate it when you’re in the mood to submit and some lit journal has its window for submissions firmly shut? My last story, “ The Hput, ” was published about three years ago. Oh, I’ve submitted since then, but with no traction. Well, it is winter. I’ve got a lot of stories lined up. I’ve been sending them out again, dreaming of making a dime at what I love doing best...

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. ...

Creativity

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

Search This Blog