After many, many years away, I started writing fiction last year. I’m starting at the very bottom - a blank page - and hope to work my way to a published novel, someday.
It’s deeply humbling, but I am thrilled to have the work ahead of me. There’s a passage from Ira Glass that I have printed out by my writing desk. Here’s a key line from it.
Everybody I know who does interesting, creative work went through years where they had really good taste and they could tell that what they were making wasn’t as good as they wanted it to be. They knew it fell short. Everybody goes through that.
I’m in this phase now. I’m making moderately average stuff and I’m trying to just produce more. I care about the quality, of course, but i just don’t have the skills or finesse. Yet. I’ll have to write hundreds of pages before it really turns around.
If it’s a 10,000 hour problem, i’ve got 9300 hours to go (give or take).
No One is Asking for My Work
Every writer wants to make a connection of some sort with a reader. I’m no different.
So, I’m starting to submit a couple short stories to small, literary-minded journals in the hope that they’ll accept and “publish” my work. Its going to be a long, long road and I’m not saying that out of a false-modesty about the quality of my work. It’s just that there is already too much short fiction out there and too few readers.
I’m working in a marketplace that is wholly inefficient:
SupplyW - There are so many writers who want their stuff published. An example: I’m a reader for a newish literary journal, and I bet we get 99 stories for every 1 we’ll publish. Out of those 99 stories, i’d say 70 of them are publishable (in the sense that some journal should publish them.)
SupplyJ - Most publishing houses don’t care that much about short stories unless the writer has a good novel in her/him. So, writers turn to literary journals or magazines. There are a lot of journals, but they are all struggling and are, shall we say, under-resourced. Often run by college writing programs as a gesture to professional prep, they are swamped by submissions from folks like me who dream of showing up in their pages (or on their Substacks). They have no sense of urgency to get back to the writers. Why should they? For every writer they ignore or decline, there are 99 waiting for a chance.
Demand - There aren’t enough readers. There just aren’t that many people who care about short stories (or literary fiction in general) to support an effort by journals to publish more stories or more frequent editions. The journals can’t grow because there isn’t enough money to market them or raise the quality of the output.
As an analog, it’s probably not that dissimilar to the music business where there are gajillions of musicians who’d love to put out a record on a recognized label. But, there just aren’t enough labels to put out all the music.
What’s different is that there are aggregating platforms for music like Spotify, iTunes, and Youtube. Platforms like Bandcamp that make it easy for musicians to sell their music directly. The platforms that enable writers to “go direct” are harder to find. There are some that focus on genres (like Wattpad), but platforms like Booksie seem like they haven’t found a footing.
Getting published in a literary journal is still a key part of building a writing resume that might lead to a major (or indy) publishing house buying your work.
For writers like me - folks starting at the bottom, so to speak, without a resume - literary journals are the first step.
So, now i’m getting used to rejection. Lots of it. I’m assuming it will be a 98% thing. That is, only 2% of my submissions will get accepted.
I just have to keep submitting and take the rejections and hope I get better with each piece I write.
Its all intensely humbling, but in the end, that’s a good thing for me and my ego. I hope that five years from now I’m half-way to 10,000 hours and I’ve got a book in production.
Writing is a vocation, rejection is my hobby.
Reading
“The Woods” by Garrett Ashley - This is a banger. Here’s the opening paragraph: A deer had found its way into the house. I came down and she tapped across the floor and froze next to the record player. She had floppy ears, a fat belly, and a big white spot beneath her eye. I could hear construction noise and saw that the front door had been left wide ass open.
Pushcart Prize L - The 50th Anniversary of the pushcart prizes for stories and writing from small presses. So many good stories.
Information Age - A novella from Cora Lewis about living in these strange times. It’s published by Joyland (who coincidentally declined to accept one of my stories recently).
Planning
Roadtrips to Nashville, Savannah, Fargo and Seattle
Listening
Wild Pink - Still Coming Down - Some amazing writing on this one. What a record.
West Side Cowboy - It Goes On - Great record from some ambitious young folks.
R.E.M - Document (25th Anniversary Release) - In anticipation of some upcoming tribute shows, I’ve gone back to 1987. Still holds up.
Business model idea: bigger type, designed for one paragraph per smartphone screen. A “book” = X of slides. Maybe it’s the format?
Capturing what you can see in your mind, and expressing it to other people is a fascinating process. I don't know if I'll ever find a rhythm / process that I can replicate. I guess the most commercially successful people I know, find their style early, and don't deviate from their process. I will keep rolling that stone up a hill each day and each time... because.