“Either write something worth doing or do something worth writing.”
- Benjamin Franklin
It’s been an effort to get out the door these days.
Just after the rain washed away most of the New Year’s Eve snow, leaving us with bumpy, frozen footprints to trip and slip on, another blizzard hit the East Coast. It’s been cold enough that the snow has remained white and rather pretty, in an Island-of-Misfit-Toys sort of way; also cold enough that one doesn’t work up too much of a sweat while digging out. And best of all, it’s been cold enough that the snow has remained light and fluffy for the shovelling and the re-shovelling that needs doing to tidy up after the initial digging out.
All of which points to submissions. I have two new stories plus an entire collection of short stories to shovel out from the Writer’s Garret and into the wider world. Budgetary constraints prevent my submitting to any more literary contests, which require entry fees to cover administrative costs, so for now I’m contented to send things off to literary journals and, ulp, publishers. I’ve done up a list, and this is my week to try and push at least ten submissions out the door.
But if I’m to get to the post office any time soon, I’d better dust off my shovel, tum-te-tum.