Similarly, a rewrite I recently did for the e-zine Ideomancer came back positive for Rejectitis Majorae.
Should I see pain, suffering, disillusion, evil, cruelty, conspiracy, and fate-twistery among these results? Nary a never no-way in the how!
|Best science fiction ever.|
But then I started submitting, y'know, a lot, and I need markets, and the Grandmaster Highlord of Scientology El Ròne has bequeathed his ideological estate with enough diniero/prestige to entice me to continue submitting to the contest.
Also? While writing this blog post I just realized I submitted to the fourth, not the third, quarter. Hilarious.
Back to ignoring reality and et cetera.
Now, I have a veritable weapon of literary destruction available with which to storm the next quarter. I call it the this-story-rules-thanks-to-an-editor-bomb.
Claire Humphrey is one of the editors down at Ideomancer, and she worked with me to rewrite the-story-that-shall-not-be-named (since Writers of the Future will disqualify you for not-being-anonymous). It was my first experience working with an editor, and, despite the great help my writer-friends, non-writer-friends, and family have been to my editing process over the past couple years, those loved-ones' thoughts were, compared to Claire's insight, pieces of broken flint wielded by a crippled monkey versus Claire's heat-seeking warhead. Now, despite being rejected by Claire's chief, the nameless-tale is a veritable payload of depleted literanium munition at this point... in my opinion, at least, and I don't really care about yours unless it is the exact same as mine (*please note this claim is not true and I'm just being belligerent today [cf. my broken flint/warhead analogy).
Thus, I fully intend to blow Writers of the Future, Q1, 2011, into bits too small to tabulate. It might not happen, but I'll still dream of it.
Isn't it hilarious that this entire blog post was inspired by my own inability to correctly follow basic timelines?
No? Then get out of my blog.