I have one flash fiction and one short story that I believe are probably close to the best things I have written so far. What they have in common, apart from me, is they both remain unpublished. I suspect these narratives are not genre-specific enough, but probably slightly too whimsical (?) for the literary publishers. Or too subtle, or too obvious. I can’t tell, Except they don’t yet fit anywhere. However, I will keep sending them out, because *waves arms at world* look at everything that is published, produced, printed, or otherwise made into entertainment?
Lucifer is currently the most ridiculous entertainment I’m currently occasionally compelled to gawp at. I am unsure how it achieves both being immensely ludicrous and watchable at the same time. OK, yes, the beautiful cast helps. The moments of humour helps too. But the casting can’t excuse the premise. Perhaps it’d be plausible if it didn’t include a buddy cop situation. Or, like, angels. Whatever. I mean a police procedural featuring an immortal family soap opera set in LA got approved, based on ideas by Neil Gaiman (which I didn’t realise at first but of course, I mean Tom Ellis is clearly Gaiman’s ego stand in yeah?). But if FIVE series of this absolutely A Grade preposterous story telling that people are paid to write is possible then my stories have a place in the world too. Unless writers do have to do deals with devils?
Anywho, this week, writing gets real. I have a poem published tomorrow and a few days later (let’s say Blursday in this Covid lock down time), a flash fiction piece will also be released into this big, wildly implausible, writing world.
The state of writing 2020:
- Acceptances: 6
- Rejections: 47
- Pending: 28
Am watching: Shelter, written and directed by Paul Bettany starring Anthony Mackie and Jennifer Connelly.
Am reading: Hangover Music by Tim Train.