July 10, 2025
You’ve got a winner. The idea for the story came so naturally that you just knew it was special. You visualize the whole thing before sitting down to write, as if all nine muses joined forces to plant it in your head. The words fly onto the screen and you love how they sound.
Your critique partner calls it, “the best writing I’ve seen from you.” (Modestly, you agree.) You fire it off to some literary magazines, convinced that one of them will rush to publish it, maybe send it on to that prestigious contest you’re trying to crack. Yes, THIS is the game-changer! Then crickets.
Weeks or months drift by without a word. The silence is eventually broken by the sound of grinding teeth and a fist thumping the desk: “Not for us at this time,” “Writing is subjective,” “We enjoyed reading it, but…” and, “Best of luck in placing it elsewhere.” You start pulling your hair out (unless it’s history already, like mine). You feel like changing your pitch letter to THIS IS MY BEST WORK, YOU CLOWNS. PUBLISH IT ALREADY.
I’m going through these stages of grief and consternation, and while I’m thoroughly schooled in rejection, this one is a puzzle. What do I see in this piece that the editors don’t? Conversely, what are they finding that I’m missing? I’ve had other stories that racked up more rejections and took longer to find homes. I’ve also had stuff that I was far less confident about, yet was accepted in no time.
All I know to do is keep plugging away and not let myself be depressed or jealous about others’ success. I recently ran across an Insta post from a literary agency, trumpeting a newly signed author whose achievements could trigger big-time angst. It’s below (with a pseudonym for her name), followed by my own resume – not quite at the same level, but I’ll get there someday, or close enough to be happy.
“Jane Austen” has had a lot of titles: award-winning journalist, congressional district director, and mouthpiece for a governor, among others. But across every chapter of her career, she’s been a storyteller. And for the last decade, she’s turned that full attention to fiction.
Her body of work spans mystery, speculative, thriller, and women’s fiction, and often features a sly twist or a ghost at the edge of the frame. She’s a Pushcart nominee, a finalist for the Bakwin and SFWP Prizes, and a FAPA Gold Medalist for co-authored work. She’s published nine novels and isn’t slowing down.
Dave came late to fiction. (Also Thanksgiving dinner and a bunch of writers’ club meetings. But we digress.) His first attempt at a novel, sadly, wasn’t the greatest idea since sliced bread; maybe since New Coke. His pandemic diary attracted a ton of grateful readers, at least until the lockdowns ended and folks were no longer bored stiff.
Dave’s last regular gig involved explaining the IRS to befuddled taxpayers and equally fuddled members of Congress. However, he has succeeded in bribing begging persuading a few litmags into publishing his short stories. They’re about life in the modern South, love, noir, and other things. If you’ve made it this far and want more, you can read them right here.