K. Marvin Bruce

  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.   ...

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. ...