Audacity
Thursday, February 8th, 2007A few weeks ago, I was scanning the list of good speculative fiction magazines trying to find a home for one of my newest stories when I came to a magazine that said it only accepted submissions from published authors or authors on its list. Feeling brazen, I wrote the editor an email that said that I was a new writer who didn’t qualify for their submissions standards, but I was wondering if I could hook them in the first 10 words, would they be willing to read a short sci-fi work of mine. She wrote back and said, “Sure. Why not? Hit me.” So I sent this (which actually turned out to be 9 words):
“Love was the worst experience a parasite could endure.”
And whaddaya know, she wanted the rest
Only problem: the story I had in mind three weeks ago was already sent out with another magazine, and the one I had on hand was the one I was planning on sending to Writers of the Future Contest because it rocks. It was also 6300 words instead of 4000, like I told her it would be in my first email. That made for some embarrassing explanations, but oh well. She said she’d read it anyway, and is putting it on her desk for finishing this week. The moral of the story is that sometimes it pays to have audacity.
In other news, I finished The Pilot and it is AWESOME. Hehehehehe, it’s not an emotional gut-wrencher like Parasite or Beda and Shael, but it’s a very good story. I’m gonna submit it to a pirate anthology and see if I get any takers.
Baen’s Universe also wrote me back and said that my story Syuri had been short-listed for a final decision from the head editor. Hehehehe, that made for some happy dancing around the room, I tell you what.
Okay, (sigh) I have to add one thing: Steven is convinced that me receiving two good letters in one day was his doing. You see, the previous afternoon, he made a prophecy. You know how those ancient wise men in all the fantasy stories fortell destiny based on a single choice their supplicant is going to face in the future? Well, Steven rolled his eyes up into his head and in an eerie monotone prophecized this: “Sara, I forsee that if you do not make me brisket today, you will not see success as a sci-fi writer.”
Damn him. So I had to make him brisket. The bastard. Anyway, the very next day, I get two awesome emails from sci-fi magazines and Steven jumps all over it, saying, “Perhaps I should prophesize for you more often.” He laughed and then went deadpan and said, “Sara, if you do not…” I kicked him. He stopped, but I’ve now got that axe hanging over my head and we both know it. Damn him.
-Sara King