Tag Archives: pain

2 things that bite my balls (one for each)

This week I was only able to sub 5 stories and received 2 rejections.

Was hoping for more rejections this week so I could turn more stories around. Though, an acceptance would have been nicer.

Markets are still slim. Wish there were more crime markets that paid well.

The sci-fi/ya short I have been working on this week is now at 4,400 words, tentatively called The Creative. Bland I know, but I still have some more words. I should finish the draft tomorrow morning. I’ll think of something better. I already have some notes for a second draft. Also I want to keep it under 5k but if it goes over I’m not too worried considering the genre it’s in. Sci-fi markets seem to take higher word counts and also pay higher rates.

So yes, things that piss me off. I’ll keep this short.

One, markets that make you pay to submit your work.  Many lit based markets, think University, want to charge you a fee so they will consider you short story for acceptance of their journal. I do have some lit stories that I push around and often run into these markets.

Also there is another type that will not read your submission unless you are a subscriber to their magazine. (No, this is not the market that says read a FREE issue before you submit to get a feel of what we like. They want you to pay to subscribe before submitting.) For fear that you will not know what they want to publish. For these people don’t have time to write guidelines to explain themselves. Or have SO many submissions from SO many subscribers to read. I don’t know.

All I know that they are both capitalist scum fucks that want the writer’s money or lazy, greedy basterds and you should stay away from them

Two, I have social anxiety disorder and Asperger’s. On one hand I’m compelled to stay away from people because I have things going on in my head to take care of. On the other I just don’t want to deal with people. But I still want to socialize when I’m in the mood.

When I do no one ever meets up with me. Not talking about strangers. Talking about neighbors, people I live with for the last ten years. They give me scripted talk and move on. I know nothing personal about them. So freaky and weird. This sounds familiar. I mentioned something like this before. But you know what I mean. I want to reach out and I’m the one on drugs for depression. But no one else wants to take the time. They’re in their own little world. I guess they’re Aspies too?

 

 

But we’re not those kinds of people are we?

Finished those two short story revisions and started submitting them today. The YA market is a bit edgy and controversial so I’m hoping the story will fit well there.

Of course the mystery crime markets are so fucking slim for the second story. I just subbed it to Hitchcock. Acceptance there is as slim as the pickings but I’ll give it 4 months and then sub someplace else.

That sci-fi/ya story I was on the fence about last week I started on Saturday. Doing 2 finished pages a day with screaming kids and wife around (he he), I managed to get over 2k words (11 pages) as of this morning. Looks good. Any doubts of repeating myself are not there. Stupid me, right? I’m liking it. Feels different from anything I did before. Think I’ll be done with it by the end of the week, hoping.

Son had his dental operation on Friday. The brave little booger had three teeth pulled, not two. The third was just a loose baby tooth that was hanging out and the dentist said, “What the fuck. We might as well take this one too.”

The insurance worked out. We only had to pay for the anesthesia. Considering the whole bill would have been almost 2k I’m not complaining. Plus, how can you let a child be awake for a thing like that. I had one tooth pulled and those needles were a nightmare.

Son had no pain when he came home and all through the weekend. With any luck he’ll have no more broken fillings with cracked teeth. But we’re not those kinds of people are we?

Anyway, I forgot Stainboy last time. Here is epi five:

Little accomplishments help break the long depression

That horrible man we shall call a dentist stuck his needles in my gums and tongue to numb me before he pulled out my tooth. Would you believe he used a Q-tip with some minty stuff to pre-numb me in order for me not to feel the needles? Good gravy. I don’t remember those needles feeling like electric shock in my mouth. Five or more different spots! I handled it well. Called him a son of a bitch and rinsed out my mouth.

The tooth yanking was cake. I think the kid who assisted and held Mr. Thirsty was just out of Mr. Dentist School. 1, 2, 3. All done. I felt no pain but was annoyed of how he stretched out my mouth like I was in some absurd porn trying to fit five cocks inside, you know.

From sitting down to pulling out it took 20 minutes.

The next four hours at home were rough. I’m biting on gauze to stop the bleeding. Side of the face so numb I could bite my tongue off and not even know it. I got my daughter with me who I just picked up off the bus. My father-in-law and son are with me and so are ABA therapist and my daughter’s case specialist. All these people around and I’m in the next room suddenly with the chills, hungry (I hadn’t eaten in 6 hours), and mad drooling with bloody soaked that threatens to choke me if I fall asleep. I’m feeling useless.

My son, who knew this morning about the dentist, interacts with me now having no idea what’s wrong.

Here’s the catch. I’m the guy who takes care of everyone. My wife will have to take charge when she gets home from work. (don’t ask about my father-in-law) By now I should be picking up my wife, making sure my son does his home work, and then making dinner. Earlier I cheated with my daughter’s snack and gave her cereal instead of cutting her up fruit.

Don’t get my wife wrong. She wants and did take care of me and the kids when she came home. But it was hard for her. I had to talk her through it. We’re two different people from two different lives. Tomorrow will be back to normal.

But before that I finished revising and sent out that story to that mag and also sent out two other stories. So that’s 3 markets out. And I received 1 rejection today.

Submitting to magazines got me thinking about what I wrote about yesterday about groups and how I never stick with just one. In my career I’ve been accepted by various kinds of markets.

Strikingly different.

And strikingly scarce.

I lot of what I write doesn’t fit in with a market, with the market’s group. And that’s fine. I don’t want to speak to people who don’t want to listen to me.

But to the ones that do buy what I write, the feeling is awesome.

So the point I’m tying to make?

Don’t worry about rejection.

And write short stories. Even if you are writing a novel. Novels take time but short stories don’t. While you’re doing your big project you can do many short stories and, considering your goals, you can make some scratch or find exposure.

Plus, you can piss off your friends in your writer’s group who are still spending years working their novels going nowhere. Little accomplishments help break the long depression. Also, what you learn from writing the short stories will go into the craft of writing your novel. You can’t lose.