Every day I push the "publish" button to send my thoughts into cyberspace so you all (the hundreds, if not thousands of people who frequent this blog) can see it. But I get published elsewhere, too.
I'm crowing a little bit today, because a story of mine is appearing in Harpur Palate this month. I just got my contributor's copy, and it's pretty slick.
I've gotten other stuff published a few other places, but this is the nicest journal I've been in so far.
Getting short stories and poems published is sort of like conducting a mass Monster.com job search via snail mail, but it never ends. And when you do 'get the job', instead of getting paid, you get copies of the resume you sent in back, printed in a book with other resumes.
Hmmmm. Why do I do this again?
Well, for the joy of being published, of course, and for the bragging rights on my blog.
I have this whole elaborate system for getting published: spreadsheets of journals to send to (about 250 so far) color coded by time of year (spring, fall, summer). Spreadsheets of which pieces I've sent where, with dates marked when I send letters out and when I get the (nearly inevitable) rejection letters back.
I have a lot (a lot) of rejection letters. I file them in a binder, alphabetically. It's bursting. Most of the responses are form letters, but a few are personalized rejections. This is actually positive, for they are not bad personal ("Hey, you blonde, 5'4" nincompoop, why did you send us this trash about your sad childhood?"), but good personal ("Heather, you actually came pretty close to not being rejected! Congratulations!")
So anyway, published, and not just in cyberspace. In a real journal that sells for ten dollars!
My life has meaning now!