July 14, 2026
For the last few weeks, the local weather has whipsawed between stifling heat and the short but fierce downpours we Southerners call “toad stranglers.” My writing has gone through similar highs and lows that stranded me in my personal doldrums, like a sailing ship desperate for wind in the latitudes near the equator.
The good: a couple of months back, I was honored to receive a runner-up award for one of my short stories in the annual contest run by the Atlanta Writers Club. This was deeply satisfying, especially since I had no luck when I entered the contest before. Titled “Everything Must Go,” the piece is about a woman who’s holding a moving sale and hoping her toxic mom won’t find out she’s leaving her small hometown.
The bad? I can’t get the thing published. It’s racked up a mortifying tally of rejections from literary magazines and journals, including some that’ve run my stuff in the past. The contest judges praised it. No one else wants it. What am I to believe?
I’m not sure if or how I can improve the story. I’ve already revised it once to put it in the popular first person / present tense style. True, there are plenty of litmags I haven’t tried yet. I still wonder if I should just be happy with the award (which I am!) and move on. I have other stories out on submission, but so far there’s no movement in the trade winds for them either.
Case study 2: I’ve heard back from two agents I pitched at the club’s semiannual writers’ conference. While neither offered to represent my novel, one called the writing “engaging,” while the other accused me of weak verbs, too much passive voice, and deficient point of view (POV). I know there’s a lot of truth to the consolation cliche that the publishing biz is subjective. I’m still buffaloed by such different perceptions of the same pages.
This time there’s a possible solution. The critical agent told me I could patch up the holes and resubmit the manuscript. The trouble is that after multiple drafts and a year-long beta / critique process, I’m tired of looking at this book. Besides, resubmission guarantees bupkis (beans). So, I’ve been strongly tempted to plunge forward with the version I have.
However…after adding a few hours to my registry of lost sleep, I decided the opportunity is too promising to let slide. I’m now cutting deadwood and giving my protagonist more depth. While I’m at it, I’m changing the ending as another editor suggested. It may not bring success right away, but finally I’m moving the football, or in this case the becalmed tall ship.