yes, I did…

I submitted a short story. Bluing has a Taste has been submitted to Underground Voices.

And it’s Friday!!

it’s saturday…

Damn. I know I set a goal for myself to submit by Friday of each week. And, I did submit for last week. But this has been quite a week, and though I had a story picked out, I did not get to rewrite it like I wanted… but this goal has not been scrapped. I had picked out Lilly Loves Me for this week, and I will pick out another for next week. So, because I missed my goal, I will attempt to catch up.

Two by Friday. Wish me luck.

rejection at its worst…

To be rejected by a publisher or agent is difficult, but the rejection writers cause themselves is worse. The pre-rejection stage where we refuse to send things out because they need to be polished a little more. For crying out loud girl, you’re rubbing the paint off it.

I’m not done polishing, but it’s time to man up and submit. Hell, I got published late last year in Black Ink Horror. Why not get published again… and again. Time to dust off my submission armor and send out some stories.

I promise one submission a week and you can call me on it if I don’t. This week I will find a place to submit Forbidden Place, do a last polish, and submit by Friday.

Here is a excerpt…

The junkyard stood tucked away at the end of a road the group of old friends had not ventured down in years. Crows moved in circling black waves over the trash strewn yard, each one like a puncture in the grim sky. They settled in barren trees and on discarded objects before a sudden flap of wings or errant cry sent the entire lot of them skittering back into the air in a mad rush where they would start the process again. Levi regarded them as an omen. They should not be there, the three of them, but this was the only way.

Skeletal silhouettes of things long rendered useless by time filled the bleak stone landscape. A fence, the once locked chain broken but still woven through the gate, marked the end of where they were permitted to wander.

“Think it’s still in there?” Lilly’s voice trembled as she touched the fence with slender white fingers. Her face pinched as if in physical pain.

It was there. Each one of them could feel it. It’s presence hung in the air like smoke, choking them. Lilly seemed to feel it the most, her delicate spirit almost destroyed over the years listening to its whispers.