A few months back I completed what I believed was my best science fiction story to date--a story entitled "The Sea and All That Is In It". It's a great tale about the last dolphin on earth and, if I do say so, a great story . . . and from the rejections I've received, the lines from the editors are all the same: "It's a great story, but . . . "
One editor wrote me back--a half page handwritten note nonetheless (very rare)--that said: "I love this, but it feels like it should be a novella rather than a short story. If you can lengthen it to 20,000 words or more, I'll buy it." No way I'm lengthening it, of course. Too much work, too little pay.
Monday I received another rejection, again handwritten, that said, "Remarkable story, very well done, but it's too sad."
There's that "but" again.
I wish I could write back and say: "I'll tell you what's sad, Mr. Editor. The price of gas, the cost of a college education, the wear and tear on a perfectly good pair of undies. I wear through a pair every night squirming in my desk chair as I write great stories like this, but . . . ."
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