The First Five Days — 20 Days of Submissions

Write, write, write...and then submitFive days ago, I challenged myself to submit a different creative endeavor to a new market every day for twenty days. Well, here on Day 5, I can say that everything is going … okay … so far. Actually, things are going quite well, but there were some bumps.

The biggest challenge has been identifying appropriate markets for the works (which at this point are all fiction — from flash length to short story length). I have a few go-to’s that I submit to on a regular basis, but not everything I have in the catalog is suitable for those. For doing research on writing markets and for tracking my submissions once I’ve submitted (an invaluable aid in this project — and in my regular submission schedule), I use Duotrope. On the Duotrope site, I can do searches based on the traits of individual stories, I can see what I’ve submitted to which market, and, of course, I can do research on each of the markets before I submit. The Duotrope site has pertinent information right there, but it also provides a link to the market’s website so I can go check submission specifics and read sample stories to make sure mine fit the style and tone of the market in question. Duotrope has some free sections, but I use the paid version, which is only $5/month — less if you pay several months at a time.

My second challenge is distraction, but not necessarily the kind you might think. Currently, my day job has me in a remote location with few options for extracurricular activities (though there was a Halloween party with ice cream). No, I get distracted when I’m researching markets. I may look at half a dozen in one sit-down and then when it comes time to match up a story with a market, I’ve forgotten which ones work best where. Easily fixed, though. I have a file on the computer now where I’m making a sort of calendar. When I come across a market that seems right for a particular story, then I plug both into the calendar for that day’s submission. This is also handy for the markets that have deadlines I need to meet, or which haven’t opened up yet but will soon. Also in this file are notations on potential back-up markets if at first they don’t succeed.

Now on to the specifics. What’s gone where? Let’s take a look:

Day 1: I sent a piece of dark fantasy, “The Coming of the Train,” to Fantastic Stories of the Imagination. This story has been finished for a while, but hasn’t gone out before. It was originally written during a writing challenge over at Shock Totem, the inspiration for several of pieces in the catalog currently waiting for a home, but has gone through a couple of iterations since then. The inspiration was a photo of a child, a tunnel, and some train tracks.

Day 2: A piece of darkly humorous supervillain flash fiction, “Arcturus Rex … Wants to Rule the World,” wended its way to Fantasy & Science Fiction Magazine. F&SF is top tier in the sci-fi/fantasy realm — top of the top tier, you could likely argue, and so chances are slim. But better to start at the top and work your way down through the markets than send a piece off to a ‘lower-tier’ market, have it immediately accepted, and then have no idea whether it could have aspired to true greatness. Okay, there’s a bit of hyperbole in there — different pieces for different markets, after all — but there’s a fair bit of truth, too. Don’t submit to a token-paying market without at least giving your work a shot at a paying/prestigious market. Over the years, I’ve sent many a story to F&SF. None have been printed yet. Doesn’t mean I’m going to stop sending. I had already sent two pieces off to The Rag Literary Magazine before my transhumanist short story “The Human Argument” was purchased (it’s still on their front page — click the links to have a read). “Arcturus…” was inspired by a weekly writing challenge group I belong to on Facebook. Interestingly, I wanted to send this one to one of my go-to markets: Daily Science Fiction (See Day 5), but DSF has changed its guidelines and now doesn’t accept anything of more than 1500 words. “Arcturus…” clocks in at 3000, so THAT was a no-go-to (<–which I think is also a type of Japanese folk monster).

Day 3: I’d planned on sending off a sci-fi/fantasy poem for Day 3. Unfortunately, I didn’t have its most recent iteration on my computer, so I had to put that calendar dot on hold until my … ahem … executive assistant (everyone should have one) was able to hunt it down amidst mega-gigs of old emails and send it to me. Though the EA was swift, I still needed something for Day 3, so with a little shuffling, one of my more literary pieces, “This is about the Dead” got sent to The Missouri Review. Talk about top-tier. Also, they charge a processing fee if you submit online rather than via snail mail. Given my current, previously-mentioned remote location, I opted to pay the $3. “This is about the Dead” has a struggling artist, graffiti, and memories at its darkling heart.

Day 4: Ah, at last: “A Gothic Sci-Fi Steampunk Romance about the Apocalypse” was ready to be sent to PULP Literature. This poem has gone out to a couple of places and then suffered through my obsessive edits when it was rejected (un-placed?). It’s one of my favorites, about 700 words and covers all those things it says there in the title. The inspiration was an off-hand comment made by someone during a writing group discussion of genre. She said something like, “Or you could (ha ha) put all those genres together and write a story about THAT (ha ha).” I took it as a challenge and though I didn’t write a story then, the poem is, methinks, itching to become a novel.

Day 5: I love the Daily Science Fiction folk. They give us a website with a new story every day AND they pay professional rates (AND getting published here also counts toward the minimum publications required to join the Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America). They recently changed their guidelines, however, and now only accept works from 100 – 1500 words, so I’ve had to re-plan what I was going to send them. Fortunately, I had just the thing, a 1000-word piece called “Keys without Locks,” which was also born during a Shock Totem writing challenge (See Day 2 … I loves me some Shock Totem).

And that’s where things are at the moment. I’ll give you another update after Day 10. Meanwhile: Happy Halloween!

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20 Days of Submissions

Write, write, write...and then submit

November is almost upon us, and with November comes National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). I’ll be participating this year: I’ve got a story in mind and will attempt to bash out at least 50,000 words of it before the end of the month. However, writing has never been my problem. I have lots of stories. Heck, I have lots of novels (six, at the moment). My problem is getting them off my computer and out in the world where they might possibly be read by someone. Maybe even YOU. Hi!

So I set myself a challenge. For the next 20 consecutive days, I’m going to submit a work a day to some market, somewhere. I’m not limiting myself specifically to my writings (I’ve got some photography that should be making the rounds, too), but writing is what I’ll be focusing on specifically. Twenty days, twenty submissions. And I thought you might be interested in following along and seeing how things go — or even joining me yourself if you have a bunch of work that’s been gathering dust for whatever reason.

I’ll be giving periodic updates here on Distracted by the Shiny — what I’ve sent where, why I chose that market, what my hopes and dreams are — and in the comments you can let me know how things are going for you.

Anyway, for this first post, let me lay out the rules I’ve set for myself:

The Rules of 20 Days of Submissions

Rule 1) Something has to be submitted every day, by midnight, local time, for 20 consecutive days.

Rule 2) Said ‘something’ can be any artistic/creative endeavor — in my case: short stories, novels, flash fiction, or photography.

Rule 3) I can submit a work more than once, but only after it has been accepted/rejected during an earlier submission (ie: I’ve got to work with new stuff until I’ve gotten a response on something I’ve already sent); as a caveat, I CAN submit the same thing to multiple places at once, but that only counts as one submission.

Rule 4) The submission has to be a market or contest that at least offers token payment (even if that’s just a couple of copies of the magazine or whatever. Online or offline ‘exposure’ doesn’t count; neither does posting it here on my blog). Money is preferable.

Rule 5) I will not be depressed by rejections but immediately submit returned works to a new market.

Rule 6) If I run out of things to submit, then I just have to create more.

Sound good? Wanna join me? #amwriting #20DaysofSubmissions (<–which may be a hashtag for a dominatrix site or something; I don’t know).

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Sounding Athens

Acropolis

The Acropolis in Athens, Greece

I heard the sound of a flute.

The flutist played a light and airy tune, making me think of manicured forests wherein a boisterous Pan might dance and revel. I looked around, trying to locate the source. To my left, somewhere.

As it was my first day in Athens, my goal was to find my way up to the Acropolis. That twenty-five-hundred-year-old citadel with its pillars and statues and steps was still the centerpiece of the city. No longer did the great citizens go to the Parthenon to give honor to the goddess Athena, but the hill the Acropolis stood on served as a pilgrimage site for who-knew-how-many tourists and travelers each year.

But I had neither map nor guide and my Greek was nonexistent, so I wandered the maze of streets below the cliffs, trying to find the one that would lead me out onto slopes where I might be able to eventually make my way to the ‘official’ path.

In Athens, though, it seems there aren’t very many straight roads. The ones I chose circled the great hill, every path up dead-ending at walls or more roads running in the wrong directions — until at last I found myself on a wide pedestrian street paved with chunks of pale, smooth stone. To my left was an irregular outcropping of rock that rose out of trees and scrub, beyond that was the Acropolis — closer, but still farther away than I had been hoping.

The flute began to play just as I was about to turn back and settle for having a cup of hot chocolate in the warmth of a patio heater at one of the outdoor restaurants I had passed, because the waning afternoon was turning chill.

The sound came from the outcropping. I followed it, letting the light tune draw me up winding paths until I could see the piper perched upon a stone. He was a round-faced fellow with a grey stubble of beard and a thinning hairline, and he smiled as he played. So it was that on my first day in Athens I watched the sunset from the top of Mars Hill while a flute warbled out a strain fit for an enchanted glade.

Mars Hill Sunset

Looking out over Athens from Mars Hill at sunset.

Over the next several days, music came to define Athens for me. There was the flute at Mars Hill, of course. There was also the drum circle near the Thissio metro stop, near the ruins of the Agora, Athens’ ancient downtown. Before I saw the drummers — gypsies and street youth pounding with palms on hide-covered drums — I heard the beat thudding across the lamp-lit streets, mingling with the smell of sizzling foods, the blacks and somber winter clothing colors of tourists and locals, the laughter from within restaurants and bars.

To the trails I hiked on the side of Philosopher’s Hill came the notes of a saxophonist; there were the plucked strings of a mandolin heard in the distance as I sat and watched rays from a sinking sun strike the high pillars of the Parthenon from a perch on the Hill of Nymphs; and someone sang a cappella as I walked past chambers carved out of cliffs which had once been homes or crypts or both.

It seemed that everywhere I went in Athens, there was music nearby.
Bells rang out from the cupolas of Greek Orthodox churches. A girl and her boyfriend performed rock and roll hits from the 70s on a street just up from the Acropolis Museum. Two locals played traditional Greek music on guitar and mandolin from the stage while I ate mousaka in a stone-walled restaurant in the Plaka district. Two guys with a generator and a couple of speakers wailed out tunes among the necklaces, carvings, paintings, and other street vender fare on a pedestrian walk.

Agora Musicians

Musicians near the Agora in Athens, Greece.

And more: A dirty-faced young boy wearing unlaced tennis shoes played an accordion for euros on top of Mars Hill. A trio bearing a bass, a fiddle, and an upturned hat played for the same between metro stops on the inner city rail. Another accordion made its appearance in the hands of a gypsy woman on a separate metro line; a tiny girl followed her, hand clinging to skirt.

Music everywhere, and when there wasn’t, there was birdsong. Even at the beginning of winter, even in the heart of Athens. When the flute began to sing, so to did the birds.

So did we all.

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