On Submission and Twitter

Well I went and did it. I dropped Dark in the mail. That marks my first submission to a magazine for possible publication. It took me the space of about three hours to wish fervently that I hadn’t made the final changes on it before letting it go, such is life though. The only thing I can do now is get started with my next story and try and forget about it.

In looking at the steadily growing pile of my written work I’m starting to see the beginnings of a pattern emerge. A good deal of what I write could easily be categorized as horror, another large section would fit neatly into the humor category. All of my short stories have in common is the fact that they are weird. No matter the occasion, I can never seem to resist adding a touch of the fantastic to a story. I’m not apologizing mind, that’s just seems to be my way. What does give me pause for thought is the fact that I haven’t really branched out much. I don’t pretend to be an expert in the writing game but I know enough to say that I have no real idea what I am doing. What? It might be clearer to say that I am still trying to figure out just what kind of writer I want to be. Anyway, I am going to try and hammer out something that is a little less horrific and a little less funny and perhaps a good deal more personal. That’s what Danielle recommended anyway and she’s pretty smart.

I can see how writing a story that strikes close to home could improve my writing just by virtue of it being easier for me to understand and identify with. Still, without the comforting distance of a good joke or the otherworldly abstraction of horror I can see how this could get a little too close for comfort. You never know the meaning of the word “hot” until you stick your hand on an iron.

In other news I’ve taken another step down the wide, straight road of technological damnation and signed myself up for twitter. I’m not proud of myself, but I can’t fight the future forever can I? My username is ByThePen if you feel like following along.

Down from the door where it began...

I take comfort in imagining that all writers, even the great old ones, occasionally feel like I feel today. I am on the verge of sending my first submission out for consideration to the wild world of publication. This should be a happy time for me, a milestone on my way down a new and exciting path, but it isn’t. Instead I stand in the shadow of Vonnegut, King, Bester, Rushdie, and Orwell and feel a hideous surge of shame at the humble work I’ve cobbled together so far. Will I drop this sucker in the mail? Absolutely. I’ve put too much juice into it to turn back now. Still, I can’t help but fret over the fact that I am swimming in unfamiliar waters surrounded by some very big fish. The world I know is one of politics, paper, and numbers. Academia and the austere reaches of the business and government affairs are the only worlds I know. Every step I take toward writing fiction is a step away from the comfort of home, and adventures do make one late for dinner. I might as well get used to the idea, when a wizard comes calling there’s just no getting the bastard to leave.

More to come.

Weekly Enigma

With my first submission to Weird Tales held up a week I don’t have much to report on the writing front. Still, here’s another riddle to keep you wanderers thinking.

A thousand teeth of cloth and steel inside a towering beast.
Every morn’ it chews its food, but later it’s released!

What are the teeth? What is the beast? What is the food?

Weekly Enigma

Ever since my grandmother read me The Hobbit when I was about six years old I have been fascinated by riddles. Reading through Stephen King’s masterpiece The Dark Tower series recently has re-kindled my love of these little word games. I find that creating riddles focuses the mind as much as trying to solve them. I’ve accrued a great many of them in the margins of short stories and letters I’ve been worked on over the last two years. I will make an effort to post a new one here every week, guess away in the comment section.

Here's an easy one to start us off:

An army marching around the dead
Always in circles
They’ve caps, but no heads.

Who are they?