I enjoyed writing stories here, they were freely available to anyone who cared to read them. I posted over 300 stories this way. Then I wrote something here I thought worthy of submission. Turns out it was. It was rejected because posting a story here counts as prior publication. Who'd 've thunk it.
I started a new site called 100 rejections to record my rejections from publishers. Not an original idea but it has been fun and the rejections have been getting encouraging. Why have I not updated that site?
The answer is summer happened. It was time to disperse so I could better coagulate in the Autumn.
Why do I intend to post here again? Because it seems true that in order to keep the flow of ideas coming, giving them away really does work.
While I will be submitting again (without the exuberence that I watched my youthful peers possess) I accept that to keep that tap running I have to leave the garden hose on as well.
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Poem from 1999 - Eschatol Bridge
To live the life you want you must leave the life you have. Between this wherever and that forever is a finite span of pain with depth unkno...
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After the apocalypse, the last person on Earth sat alone, there was a knock at the door. The last person on Earth didn't recognize the s...
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