I hate the last stretch of winter. All around me there are signs that it's almost over. We're "crawling out of the tunnel," as my mother always said, with sunrise coming a little earlier and sticking around a bit later. A few tulips are braving their heads, the snow is melting, and there’s no ice to scrape off the car in the morning. YAY.
But whatever vitamin D my body had stored is totally gone! I’m sluggish. Dragging my feet.
Anyway, after surprising myself with a wonderful writing sprint in January and February, March feels sluggish writing-wise too. I was rejected for two anthology calls I submitted to. The first editor said something positive along the lines of, “[It] was a good story, but I can’t use it in my anthology.” The second said she had to pass and couldn’t give any individual feedback, but included the next submission call information in the short email.
Sigh. We all have a bucket list, right? This publishing house is one I’d like to check off eventually. I know that rejection is part of the publishing game; it’s going to happen and happens to everyone, the great writers of history included. I’d be arrogant to think I was the exception. But still, it stings. Not so much because I think I deserve to be included due to my writing brilliance, but because I gave it my all. After being in a funk for so long, my optimism was inflated to otherworldly proportions.
I’ve always been an optimistic person. People in my life have described me as feeling intensely about everything and often possessing or displaying dramatic emotions about the world. The advantage to being this way is putting out positive energy for yourself and others, drawing in others, and happily exploring the limitations of creativity and adventure. The downside is choosing to be ignorant to reality and wishing to retreat into the utopia themed worlds I create inside my head. When shocked with real world issues, my emotions sharpen and my heart breaks.
I need to learn better balance. But I don’t know how to achieve this or to alter the way I’ve always been.
But maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe optimism is the drive I should harness to keep myself motivated. I plan to keep trying. I still hope to check off my bucket list publisher. I still want to spill my stories onto the page for the purpose of my own sanity in a regular “mind dump” over the course of however many years I’ll be in this life.
Sorry, all this stream of consciousness blogging is a little disorganized.
But yeah. I’m polishing off my lesbian, post-apocalyptic, vampire, lesbian horror (mouthful!) for later this month, and a heterosexual science fiction erotica for April. Sometime in the next week or two I hope to hear back about my lesbian travel erotic submission. Maybe BUST Magazine will love the short stroker I submitted to them. I really hate waiting.
This week I'm starting a heterosexual erotic story based in clutter. We all have clutter. Some of us like to dig through the racks at the thrift store or peruse the aisles in antique malls in search of treasure. I think that some treasure could lead to some booty! (Har har!)
I’m keeping a running tab of stories and ideas, anthology calls, and all the related details together in an organized place. My stories that failed will find a new home in another submission call or I’ll self-publish. It’s not like I wrote them for nothing (my optimism here).
I haven't forgotten about my other works in progress [the next Choose Your Pleasure (A Space Odyssey), Sinful things (in progress for 3 friggin' years), the sequel to Cat Games (which totally needs a new title), or the many other ideas floating around in my head. I have to dispose of one at a time before I can move on, and I'm just really focused on getting a piece--any piece--submitted to a publishing house again (to "get back on the horse" after being screwed over by TP)]. I also haven't forgotten about the fans or the curious waiting for these things.
I just need to take my time and remember I'm not Wonder Woman. I can be optimistic and successful, just not all the time.
And I guess if I have just one reader say, “Hey, Gora, listen, I really liked this; I was entertained,” then I can call that a win.
