For days, I've been trying to write scenes that I know must be included in Episode 5 of the science fiction serial I am writing, but the words and the images are far away.
Saturday, I never ventured out of my house, and did a lot of sleeping due to headache and nausea, ailments that have plagued me on-and-off since last weekend. Perhaps all that stillness was a boon. About an hour ago, like timid deer, images approached and let me transcribe them, but only for a little while before they bounded into the undergrowth once more.
Episode 4 has been captured and tamed and will soon be sent into the civilized world of pre-publication proofing. (How's that for alliteration?)
As a slush reader for an online magazine, much of my otherwise creative time has been spent reading submissions and proofing accepted manuscripts. I have one more proof to go this weekend--an accepted entry written by a friend, Jade Smith--and a couple more submissions: one a cold submittal, and the other a resubmittal after requested revisions were made. (Would you look at that. More alliteration!)
In September and these first several days of October, the submissions came in a rather large spate and, after a while, I had to stop reading. Some of them were abysmal. Some were darkly comic. Some of them glowed with quality writing.
I wonder how many of the authors of the rejected pieces sat at their computers and wondered why their "precious" (a fantasy reference) did not meet with open arms. After all, Fear and Trembling is a small magazine, relying on volunteers behind the scenes in order to maintain its presence on the web. But size doesn't matter when it comes to the quality of the stories. How else can a magazine expect to grow if it does not provide readers with a well-written array of reading material?
A writer must give his best effort, regardless of the venue. He never knows who's reading.
He never knows who'll pass along the word to others.
I'm sure he hopes it's a good word.
In that spirit, I'm up at a heathen hour, trusty pen in hand, hunting the timid word-deer, hoping to bag a few more before nausea nabs me again.