I’ve turned poetry into flash fiction, cut out sections of short stories to create completely different, even shorter stories, transformed micro pieces into haiku, fashioned tiny windows into imaginary worlds, smashed antonyms together and pulled characters apart. I’ve reshaped endings, lopped off beginnings, and stolen my own middles. I have written to word counts, written for challenges, written for the writing down of words. And, as for words? Words have been replaced, deleted, divided, added, cut and pasted and lambasted. I’ve polished, hacked, edited, rewritten, saved, researched, tallied, submitted, submitted, submitted. Waited, waited, am waiting. If you are writing, perhaps you are doing the same, or something similar, where ever you are.

Amongst all this, there was a sliver of reassurance amongst the rejections: I exist. Well, my name exists on the database that collates information on Australian literature for posterity. Austlit is housed and maintained by the University of Queensland and there I am, nestled amongst the great and good, the familiar and nearly forgotten. Me, a miniscule fishie in a small writing ocean chock full to overflowing with talented sea creature creatives of every sort and type and amazing ability and agility.

The writing update

• Pending submissions: 29
• Rejections: 37
• Publications: 3