Not the Halloween kind of “Boo!” although there have been a lot of those lately, but the “Boo-hoo, I got rejected” kind of boo. Which is not half as much fun, as it doesn’t usually include a costume or candy. (Although, truly, how good would it be if editors delivered personal rejections and acceptances ala that McMahon guy, showing up at your door with balloons and a ginormous, impossible to sign check and hot chicks in stripper costumes? Which brings me to ask how bad it would be to get rejections via editorial assistants dressed in grim reaper costumes and handing out bad candy like jelly beans and juju beads?))
Sadly (or perhaps thankfully), my latest rejections and acceptances came via plain old email:
- I will have a rather sexy and sweet boy-boy story in Torquere Press’s upcoming collection about Men in Kilts.
- A poem was accepted for a print anthology on AIDS and HIV.
- A short story was rejected from an anthology that I really, really wanted to be in. Le Cry.
Oh well. Keep on rocking on, right? I’ve got three stories on the front burner, the bad novel for NaNoWriMo, and a bunch of freelance assignments in the works. So it’s mostly head-down, fingers-on-the-keyboard, brain-on-fire around ShannaLand at the moment. Which, all in all, is not such a bad place to be.
Kiss kiss bang bang, s.