A HOPEFUL SIGN

I submitted a cover letter, writing sample and synopsis of my short story collection about two months ago to my publisher of choice. Since I hadn’t heard anything, I assumed a rejection letter would be waiting for me when I retrieved my mail upon returning to British Columbia. Last night, however, I checked my emails and there was one from the editor with whom I worked on my first novel, Fouling Out. She apologized for the delay in contacting me and noted that the publisher has never published a collection of short stories for tweens and teens. (Indeed, it is hard to find any publisher that with that kind of book. The closest I can find is the Chicken Soup for the Soul books that appeal girls. Nothing for boys.) The brief email went on to say that the editor loved the title and would like to read the entire collection.

This news does not guarantee a green light for getting the short stories published, but it is exciting to know that the possibility remains alive for a riskier (read, not market tested) project. As I am flitting about in developing several other works at present, the news provided an instant spark to keep going. Feedback for a writer is infrequent, particularly for someone like me who does not share any work in progress with anyone. Any spark of interest helps reignite the belief that I am on the right track and that a writing career remains a legitimate dream.

Now What?!

Fifteen minutes ago I finished my latest manuscript, a collection of forty-two short stories targeted at teen boys. I completed the drafts in March and have spent the time since then revising before I submit the project to publishers. Most of the work has been done over the past two weeks when I didn’t have any distractions from a day job.

I should feel elated. At least relieved. It hasn’t set in yet. There will be a little more tinkering with the order of presenting the short stories and some contemplation as to which ones to submit as samples. Also, I’ve got to refine my cover/query letter. I expect to mail the project by the middle of next week. Once I actually hand it over to the postal worker, I think I will feel that sense of accomplishment.

It’s important to celebrate in some way. Before the rejections come in. (If they do. My first book was accepted by the first publisher. A fluke, I’m told.) No matter how dismissive and formulaic the rejection letter, nothing can take away from the fact I completed a writing project that began a year ago. I enjoyed every part of the writing. The short stories—and let me emphasize short—allowed me to bounce about from idea to idea. The collection began as a constructive diversion from another novel I was working on. That manuscript remains incomplete, something that has sat cold for many months. It’s harder to dive back into a novel than a set of short stories.

When I started out, I planned to write forty. I feared I might run out of ideas after a dozen stories. Fortunately, the synopses were plentiful. Just yesterday, I jotted down ideas for more. Sure, I need someone to accept the original set, but I am getting excited about a sequel. Writing doesn’t stop; it just changes course, if only slightly.