I’ve got this looming “always a bridesmaid” feeling hanging over me. There’s just so many fiction projects I’ve got in the “you made it out of the main pile, and now we’re thinking seriously about giving you the big prize” category that my head’s about to issue sparks and fly off my neck in a pretty, blue and red fireworks display.
Listing them, to aggravate my torment:
– “All In My Mind” – Phobos Finalist
– “The Scent of Their Voices” – passed second reading at ASIM.
– “The Few, the Proud, the Leech Corps” – passed initial slush at Dreams of Decadance, email reply to query from the editor saying that she’s holding it for consideration and “quite likely to buy it.” But no further word since May.
– “My Friend Is a Lesbian Zombie” – shortlisted for the Launchpad anthology.
– “The Reign of the Wintergod” – held for two months at City Slab where anything held longer than a month is in “serious consideration.” Or maybe they just lost this one and I need to query. Eep.
I keep telling myself not to get too worked up over strong maybes ’cause down that path lies earth-shattering disappointment.
But I’m just dying over here from all the waiting and hoping. And the dreary, dreadful fear that all I’m going to end up with is another pile of rejection letters.
My patience reserves have gone the way of the dodo.
On an up note, I am looking forward to seeing yakdog et al. this weekend. Something to take my mind, however briefly, off my anxious twitching.