in Life's name and for Life's sake

Crap I have to do this weekend:

--more ID terms for Russian history
--pgs. 277-364 in Russian history reader
--read chapter 11 of Russian history textbook
--re-read Danica's short story and type up critique
--re-read Sonja's short story and type up critique
--finish writing tutor application
--choose short story #2 to submit for Clarion
--submit Clarion application
--submit poetry to Berkeley Poetry Review
--start brainstorming Chaucer paper topics
--read Hamlet again

It'll be nice to get the Clarion stuff done.  I still have no idea what story I'm submitting along with "Fire and Ice."  I've gotten so many mixed messages.  Before I had other people read my stuff I was so sure it would be "Potential Energy," but then no one else liked it as much as I did and Shanna sent it back to me with a really great critique that pointed out to me all the ways in which I could make it work so much better -- which is a nice way of saying she told me all the ways it wasn't working, and I know enough about writing to know her points were valid.

Then I pretty much have ruled out "The Free Way" simply because it's way ungainly at the moment and I don't have the heart to put it through a massive rewrite, especially when I'm not sure that's what it needs at all, at least not now.  At least, not for this.  Also I'm not sure I can do that in 6,000 words (though I probably could if I had to).

The technical aspects of "Staring into Space" make me dislike it for a few reasons (not to mention the fact that it feels too young to me, which is understandable since it's the first short story I ever wrote) but I recently revised it and it was at least feeling a little fresher.  At the same time, though, it's also slightly cliched in places.  It's more of a traditional sf piece.  At the moment that's the largest thing it's got going for it.

My father thinks I should send them "Cold War, Cold World" but I have a few issues with that, too (not the least of which being that it's also set somewhere extremely cold and obviously I can write things that are not set in the Arctic, thankyouverymuch, but I'd like that to show).  Dad thinks it's a strong showing because it demonstrates that I can do traditional sf.  I think it shows that I shy away from the elements of traditional sf that really matter -- the exact nature of the mysterious chemical, the action sequence when the hostages are rescued.  I like what might be termed the "trickiness" of the ending, but I don't know if that's enough to justify it as an inclusion.

I hate not knowing these things and having no way to judge them on my own.  I was hoping that a pattern would emerge from people's answers.  Well, a pattern did emerge -- Fire and Ice is really great and nothing else that you put next to it will look half as good.  Never in so many words but that's completely how it feels to me right now.  (And partly that scares me because I wrote "Fire and Ice" two and a half years ago, and I don't want that to have been my peak!)

Well.  I guess this means I'll just go along doing other things on the list until that's the only one I'm left with.  Usually this is a good idea.  I just hope that it will be this time.

I submitted my short story, "Potential Energy," to the Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction about a week ago. Imagine my surprise when I found a response from them in my mailbox this afternoon: 

Dear Ms. Cunard:

Thank you for submitting "Potential Energy," but I'm going to pass on it.  This tale didn't grab my interest, I'm afraid.  Good luck to you with this one, and thanks again for sending it our way.

Sincerely,

John Joseph Adams
Assistant Editor

The only thing that bugs me about this is that the quick response time, combined with the wording of the response, suggests to me that my story might not even have been read -- that Mr. Adams might have glanced at the cover letter and made his judgment based upon its merits rather than the merits of the individual story.  

But although it's frustrating to think this might have been the case, I'm not particularly upset.  I mean, yeah, rejection stings and all that, but I'm beginning to realize that perhaps I've found the only kind of rejection in life that doesn't set me back or put me down.  I used to think that the only reason I put up with Julie's rejections was because of the kind and thoughtful way she worded them.  Now I know that can't have been it, because I sit here feeling no less determined to continue submitting my stories to different markets, despite the fact that Mr. Adams' rejection was not in any way couched in pleasant language or complements for the story itself.  I'm starting to realize that, maybe, I don't mind having stories rejected.

Granted, it's probably a little early in the game to talk about this.  After all, this is only rejection number three.  I'm sure there will be many more where it came from before this story ever sees print.  But still -- college rejections hurt like hell.  Story rejections don't hurt at all.  In the long run, how I write matters more to me than where I go to college.  So why is it that it's okay for me to be rejected by the one group of people that I feel the greatest need to join?

Probably, I shouldn't ask questions.  I should just be happy with my lot -- I certainly don't want these types of rejections to unhinge me.  I just think that it's strange that they don't.  Maybe college rejections hurt more because they're more final?  I know that my short stories that might not get published by one person might still have a chance in another market, but once a college says no, it means no.  Maybe that's why it's different.  Maybe also because kids my age get into Stanford, but kids my age don't get published in the New Yorker.  Maybe.

I guess I'll just wait and find out.