K. Marvin Bruce

So, it’s the last day of 2019.   I awoke this morning to find a rejection letter in my inbox.   I say “good riddance” to this past year, although it had a little publishing success.   It was better than 2018 in that regard. I’ve got a young writing partner.   She hasn’t published anything yet, but she’s one of the natural best writers I know.   We encourage each other when the going’s rough.   She ended up in the hospital in 2019, and when visiting her she got me to submit some stories again.   Facing an illness will do that to you. Of the stories I sent in during 2019 two were accepted for publication and one won honorable mention in a contest (but alas, wasn’t published).   I sent out a bunch more late in the year and this morning’s rejection may be—it’s too early to tell—the last of blessed 2019. I don’t let my failures stop me from writing.   I’ve got a fourth nonfiction book under contract and nearly ready to ...

Several years ago now I wrote a story called “Without Crutches.”   Ah, distinctly I remember, it was before the wonderful journal Glimmer Train closed down.   I was going through one of my phases of actually reading journals before submitting, and I’d read a tale or two in said Train about characters with addictions. Perhaps going back to the almost mythic Edgar Allan Poe, writers have struggled with mind-altering substances.   Those of us who write see the world so differently and crave new experiences in an almost manic way.   Alcohol, drugs, and even religion can lead that way. “Without Crutches” was a story defending writing without using foreign substances.   As the child of an alcoholic, this path looks quite dark to me.   Besides, my imagination has a healthy libido.   Yes, even sex can lead to altered states of consciousness.   Of course, my story found no publishers. I recently read about Stephen King.   Actua...

Man is this blog dusty!   The neglect isn’t willful, I assure you.   The thing about being a working writer is, well, work.   That combined with the fact that there’s life outside the internet that demands your time. In any case, I’m chuffed that my story “Meh Teh” has appeared in The Colored Lens .   The title is a Himalayan word for what westerners call “yeti.”   As with most of my fiction, however, there’s a deeper story.   And deeper stories often involve belief. It’s funny how easily religion can turn off a conversation.   Yet, I was recently at a book festival where several of the more successful authors I met were quite open about their religious convictions.   Perhaps it’s hiding in plain sight.   Like a yeti. I have to admit that I’ve never been to Nepal, or even India.   I made it to a corner of Asia once in my youth, but I like writing about places I imagine.   I recall studying maps as a child so th...

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. ...

Write and you’ll get advice.   Some years ago I signed up for Medium, a social network with many writers.   Now I get daily advice from the website, sometimes helpful, sometimes not.   You see, there’s no wrong way to write. Days after receiving the happy news that Ghostlight had accepted “The Pain of a Caterpillar” for publication, The Colored Lens emailed to say they were seriously considering “Meh-Teh” for their next edition.   It’s not the same as an acceptance, but a struggling writer takes all the signs of hope offered. Rod Serling, about whom I’ve written before, had a quote about writing that has stuck with me, although I can’t remember the exact words.   He noted that only writers understand the pain of rejection in the way with which we’re all so familiar.   As usual, he said it much more eloquently.   Still, having someone say “Maybe” is better than the more familiar “No.” I call myself a struggling writer becau...

Every great once in a while something extraordinary happens.   As I mentioned in my last post, I really hadn’t submitted fiction for publication for almost three years.   (I had a couple of non-fiction projects going.)   About three weeks ago I began submitting again. I have a backlog of stories ready to go.   That backlog is now one story less.   “The Pain of a Caterpillar” was accepted, to my great delight, by Ghostlight: The Magazine of Terror .   I’ve finally broken the magical number of twenty short stories accepted for publication. The truly remarkable thing, however, was the alacrity with which it was accepted.   I have been writing fiction for over forty years and never had a story accepted on the same day it was submitted before.   I was absolutely thrilled. As a writer, fewer things make you feel as validated as acceptance.   You have to go through an awful lot of rejection to get there.   This particular ...

I used to tell a young friend interested in writing that there’s no right or wrong way to do it.   While I write in some form every day—lately it has been non-fiction—I have been wondering if I go about my fiction the right way.   I wonder this because I keep a spreadsheet. This spreadsheet contains information about every submission I’ve made: the date sent, to which magazine, word count, and response.   I color-code everything so I can tell at a glance if a story’s still awaiting a publisher or not. While looking at this spreadsheet recently, I noticed that it had been two or three years since I’d tried to get any fiction published.   Well, apart from my novel (which is also on the spreadsheet); I sent it to an agent who turned it down earlier this year.   What I noticed about my submissions is that they tend to happen in June. I’m not a student and I’m no longer a teacher, so June has no special connection with free time.   I do, ho...