Last week I was taking stock of my literary output thus far in 2013 and I realized that my writing--in a mere 80 days--had gone around the world. Since January I have, for example, submitted work to magazines in Australia and Germany and Canada, procured acceptances from magazines in England, California, Oklahoma, New York, Nashville and Denver. Quite a literary world we live in today.
My writing somewhat mirrors my personality, I suppose. Consistently optimistic . . . with a touch of cynicism. I've had editors tell me, "I'm surprised you could write that." And others who have asked, "Why did you write that?"
To me, it's all in a days work . . . which begins quite early, usually.
Sometimes, when I'm up four hours before dawn, I sit in the dark and wonder: Who might be up at this hour in England? Would that editor in Sydney, Australia be available? Sometimes, I drop these editors an email like:
Hello, just thought I'd send a quick line and let you know that I am awake in Indiana. I could write something for you . . . I'm just sitting here in the dark with a cup of coffee and could easily whip out a 1000-word essay about basket weaving, perhaps, or how to make chili out of two-week-old leftovers, or perhaps an essay on how to avoid botulism. Or rickets. I love writing about rickets. Do you have a need for a rickets essay? My fingers are warmed up and my keyboard is well-lubed with donut oils. Hey, drop me a line and I'll get back to you in fifteen minutes.
Most editors, of course, don't write back. They must be sleeping. Even in Australia.
My writing somewhat mirrors my personality, I suppose. Consistently optimistic . . . with a touch of cynicism. I've had editors tell me, "I'm surprised you could write that." And others who have asked, "Why did you write that?"
To me, it's all in a days work . . . which begins quite early, usually.
Sometimes, when I'm up four hours before dawn, I sit in the dark and wonder: Who might be up at this hour in England? Would that editor in Sydney, Australia be available? Sometimes, I drop these editors an email like:
Hello, just thought I'd send a quick line and let you know that I am awake in Indiana. I could write something for you . . . I'm just sitting here in the dark with a cup of coffee and could easily whip out a 1000-word essay about basket weaving, perhaps, or how to make chili out of two-week-old leftovers, or perhaps an essay on how to avoid botulism. Or rickets. I love writing about rickets. Do you have a need for a rickets essay? My fingers are warmed up and my keyboard is well-lubed with donut oils. Hey, drop me a line and I'll get back to you in fifteen minutes.
Most editors, of course, don't write back. They must be sleeping. Even in Australia.
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