Welp, I've received my very first rejection letter. I checked my email this evening and found this:
Thank you so much for your interest in Paper Lantern Lit! We feel sure that your work has merit and potential, but unfortunately we don’t see a fit for any of our projects at this time.
All the best of luck with your writing future,
The Editorial Staff
Paper Lantern Lit
I'm not quite sure how to process this right now, I've kind of got this weird wiggly cold feeling in my stomach. I was expecting it, I think. I picked a different kind of writing that is not exactly common, especially nowadays with the obsession over Dystopian stories. So, well, as my friend said, it's a rite of passage. *sigh*
What I originally started this post for was to update you on what I'm doing for my writing (so as to distract me from no reply, haha). Right now, I'm editing an old NaNoWriMo story I call New Syra, and tomorrow, I'll be picking up where I left off to participate in Camp NaNoWriMo. :) This is where I'll be disappearing to for the next month or so.
As an apology, I pulled up a very short snippet, something I wrote when I caught one of my favorite songs on the radio (it always seems to be better, even if you have the CD, to catch it on the radio, like fate is smiling).
Best Song
I turn the music up, my favorite song, and feel the bass pulse in my chest like a heartbeat, as if my heart as become too large for myself - as if I have so much more to live for than what I have here with me.
I press my back closer to the beat, trying to meld myself with it, become that intoxicating thrum - if I can join it, I can be so much more, something that stretches across time.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Monday, May 21, 2012
Notes
Well, everyone, life's a-changing. It's so interesting to look back and see just how much has changed in a year.
After graduating from University last year, I have found that my writing has taken a hit - as in, no time to do so. I'm finally doing something about that! Money is becoming tight, and the last thing I want is to be forced into becoming a mindless drone who has lost all memory of what I actually want to do and become. So, I'm going over my stories and ideas, fleshing them out, and deciding where to put them, what to do with them. I'm actually sending in a story (a previous entry, "In Defense of Honor") as a sort of audition piece for a publishing company called Paper Lantern Lit. They have put out some amazing pieces of work, a scant few of which I've actually been able to read. Essentially, they give you an outline of a "spark," and you, if chosen, write it. The process is a bit more complicated than that, I'm sure, but this seems to be the gist.
In this new time for me, I get to do some new things, for example, coming up with a writer's resume. There are loads of sources out there for freelance writers, however, very few for actual fiction writers. Editorials, I suppose, are more common...you'd think I would have learned this in one of the million and a half writing classes I took in college! Nope. I learned how to write an inquiry letter, a business resume, but not a writing resume. We shall see how this goes.
I shall try to get a few new stories up soon, as opposed to the older stuff (sorry, it's just that I've got so much of it!). For now, though, young master Romeo is requiring my attention.
Have a simply lovely day!
-Sarah
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
On College Scandal
It was a bitterly cold winter day at the beginning of the semester, a fact that Madison hated admitting. She was very much made for warm weather – the beach, the sand, the shorts and flip-flops – they were all something she missed. Now that Christmas was over and the New Year had started, she was ready to bid good riddance to the snow.
Stepping into the old, over-heated building, Madison pulled her wool cap from her long, red-gold hair, shaking the cold wet flakes from her loosely curled locks. She was always amused that the buildings on her University’s campus were so ancient and regal looking from the outside, but inside, most of them were just a school, nothing more.
With a shiver, Madison made her way down the stairs into the basement of the building, double-checking her hand-written schedule before slipping quietly into a dark, empty classroom.
It being her first class of the day, she always had a tendency of getting to class ridiculously early. For the next half hour, as her fellow students trickled in, she sat back in her chair, reading an overly thick science fiction novel. Her eyes darted across the pages, and she brought her head up to briefly comment on something the others were saying. As she did so, she felt her skin prickle, and her eyes clapped onto the man that stepped into the room.
To say he was gorgeous would have been an understatement. He had dark hair that fell just so across his forehead, dark eyes, and a Mediterranean complexion. He looked around the room a moment, and the way his eyes flitted across made Madison sit up just a little, and she let her things drop to the ground that had been on the seat next to her. She felt childish in her movement, but she hoped he’d sit next to her. He looked like a Super Senior, and, at 24, Madison couldn’t deny that she was one as well.
He tossed her an easy smile before, much to her dismay, he made his way to the front of the classroom.
When she’d read N Strauss as the teacher, she’d picture an old round man, looking something like the Watson she’d pictured when reading Sherlock Holmes, or maybe even a young female grad student. But not this.
Already, Madison’s mind jumped to just how soon she’d end up having to drop the class. It jumped forward a month when he spoke.
“Hello, everyone. My name is Nicolas Strauss. But I’d much prefer you call me Nick.” And he moved on to break down the syllabus he turned to hand out. That was all it took.
It was only words he spoke, simple words – words she herself had spoken, mostly to her mother when she called to see how classes were going. But the way he used those words, the way they slipped off his tongue to spill into the classroom – well, if satin had a sound, Madison was sure it would sound like his voice.
Nick continued to discuss how the grading would work, and Madison couldn’t seem to take anything in. She privately hoped her body had adapted to the osmosis form of learning, because she could not seem to pull herself out of her idiotic stupor.
Class broke off that morning about half an hour early with a simple writing assignment (it was advanced composition, after all), and Madison was sure that whatever she was feeling was nothing more than a high school-type crush. Easily overcome, trivial in meaning.
But her feelings did not wane in the slightest over the next month. In fact, she was ashamed to realize that her poker face was not quite as convincing as she’d once believed.
Then, she also realized that the feelings were not one-sided. He’d hand out papers, and his fingers would linger just a moment longer than they really needed to – or was it her imagination? She couldn’t be sure. But who was she going to ask for advice? Who was she going to tell? It wasn’t something that Madison could tell just any girlfriend – this was a professor. Not even a graduate student as she’d once believed, and hoped.
Once, they were doing an in-class writing exercise, and when Madison had looked up to gather her thoughts, he’d been staring at her. When he realized it, he coughed, and went back to shuffling papers around on his desk.
Conferences. Madison had managed to avoid such a meeting all month long, but she knew that her issues were far from over when she received an email to meet him. But it wasn’t in his office like she expected – he’d asked her to meet him in a café.
As she waited, her nerves grew. This was odd – conferences were normal, but in a café? It felt off. Something wasn’t quite right.
But when Nick stepped through the door, a smile lit her features and she let her worries slip away into the recesses of her mind.
Nick walked with ease, a casual gait that emanated a confidence that many would envy, or so Madison imagined. He waved to her casually before ordering his coffee, and, as she waited, Madison played with her own coffee cup, wiping away the red tinted lip gloss that had been left behind on the white plastic. Her mind was screaming something at her, maybe even many somethings, but none she could decipher properly.
Her nothing musings were interrupted as the chair across from her scraped against the rough-hewn tile.
“Hello, Madi,” Nick said, his voice thick and wonderful.
“Heya, Teach,” she replied, her voice sounding false in her ears.
He shifted, forcing her hazel eyes up to watch him. He looked nervous, she thought, watching as a hand moved up to brush his hair away, only to have it fall right back where it was. She briefly wondered what it would be like to brush her own fingers through his hair, but toyed with her own to get rid of the thought.
“Is something wrong with my writing?” She blurted the question more than asked it. She needed to have something cohesive to talk about, hold onto.
“Hm?” He looked up, his dark eyes pools that spoke in volumes. He was nervous, she could see that. “Oh, no, no. I asked you here because, well, there’s a few…issues I’d like to take care of.”
“You’re kicking me out of the class.”
“What?” He chuckled. “No, why on earth would I?”
Madison could only breathe for a moment. “Uhmmm...I don’t…know.” God, she felt like an idiot.
“I need to put this out there, because I fear that the other students will pick up on it, or I may favor you, or…I’m babbling.”
“No, I like your babbling.” Madison’s eyes widened a moment and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, I can’t talk around you.” She stood up. “I need to go.”
Nick stood, placing a hand on her shoulder as he moved to her side effortlessly. “No, you don’t. I’ve put this off for too long and we need to resolve it now.”
“There’s a we in this?” Madison asked, cocking her brows.
“Yes. And there needs to not be.”
Somehow, Madison found her chair again, nodding. “I’m bidding school policy wouldn’t be too hot on this subject, huh?”
Nick seemed perplexed a moment before joining her at the table once more. “I…didn’t think you’d understand.”
Leaning forward on her elbows, Madison looked him in the eyes. “I’m guessing a café is not your normal conferencing area.”
“No.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t want to be alone with me.”
His eyes searched for someplace else to look, but flicked right back to meet her gaze. “No.”
Madison nodded. “I thought so.” She sat back casually, but somehow felt as if her heart might break. “There’s nothing we can do other than go on. Ignore it and go on.”
The sound of the steamer screamed in the café, groups chattered over the sound about nothing in particular, and the blender buzzed noisily over that. But between the student and teacher – nothing.
Author's Note:
I wrote this little ditty while I was going through yet another writing class in college. I had a crush on a Teacher's Assistant, and, me being the curious little deviant that I am, I decided to write it out, transferring it into the English department I'm more familiar with. Damn Madi, here, decided to go and be all responsible on me, though, and end it. Nic was sensible, too, so I went with my characters. There is an alternate version which is a lot more flushed out and a great deal more irresponsible/happy ending-ish. Let me know if you want to see it, too. I just love the ending on this one! :D
Stepping into the old, over-heated building, Madison pulled her wool cap from her long, red-gold hair, shaking the cold wet flakes from her loosely curled locks. She was always amused that the buildings on her University’s campus were so ancient and regal looking from the outside, but inside, most of them were just a school, nothing more.
With a shiver, Madison made her way down the stairs into the basement of the building, double-checking her hand-written schedule before slipping quietly into a dark, empty classroom.
It being her first class of the day, she always had a tendency of getting to class ridiculously early. For the next half hour, as her fellow students trickled in, she sat back in her chair, reading an overly thick science fiction novel. Her eyes darted across the pages, and she brought her head up to briefly comment on something the others were saying. As she did so, she felt her skin prickle, and her eyes clapped onto the man that stepped into the room.
To say he was gorgeous would have been an understatement. He had dark hair that fell just so across his forehead, dark eyes, and a Mediterranean complexion. He looked around the room a moment, and the way his eyes flitted across made Madison sit up just a little, and she let her things drop to the ground that had been on the seat next to her. She felt childish in her movement, but she hoped he’d sit next to her. He looked like a Super Senior, and, at 24, Madison couldn’t deny that she was one as well.
He tossed her an easy smile before, much to her dismay, he made his way to the front of the classroom.
When she’d read N Strauss as the teacher, she’d picture an old round man, looking something like the Watson she’d pictured when reading Sherlock Holmes, or maybe even a young female grad student. But not this.
Already, Madison’s mind jumped to just how soon she’d end up having to drop the class. It jumped forward a month when he spoke.
“Hello, everyone. My name is Nicolas Strauss. But I’d much prefer you call me Nick.” And he moved on to break down the syllabus he turned to hand out. That was all it took.
It was only words he spoke, simple words – words she herself had spoken, mostly to her mother when she called to see how classes were going. But the way he used those words, the way they slipped off his tongue to spill into the classroom – well, if satin had a sound, Madison was sure it would sound like his voice.
Nick continued to discuss how the grading would work, and Madison couldn’t seem to take anything in. She privately hoped her body had adapted to the osmosis form of learning, because she could not seem to pull herself out of her idiotic stupor.
Class broke off that morning about half an hour early with a simple writing assignment (it was advanced composition, after all), and Madison was sure that whatever she was feeling was nothing more than a high school-type crush. Easily overcome, trivial in meaning.
But her feelings did not wane in the slightest over the next month. In fact, she was ashamed to realize that her poker face was not quite as convincing as she’d once believed.
Then, she also realized that the feelings were not one-sided. He’d hand out papers, and his fingers would linger just a moment longer than they really needed to – or was it her imagination? She couldn’t be sure. But who was she going to ask for advice? Who was she going to tell? It wasn’t something that Madison could tell just any girlfriend – this was a professor. Not even a graduate student as she’d once believed, and hoped.
Once, they were doing an in-class writing exercise, and when Madison had looked up to gather her thoughts, he’d been staring at her. When he realized it, he coughed, and went back to shuffling papers around on his desk.
Conferences. Madison had managed to avoid such a meeting all month long, but she knew that her issues were far from over when she received an email to meet him. But it wasn’t in his office like she expected – he’d asked her to meet him in a café.
As she waited, her nerves grew. This was odd – conferences were normal, but in a café? It felt off. Something wasn’t quite right.
But when Nick stepped through the door, a smile lit her features and she let her worries slip away into the recesses of her mind.
Nick walked with ease, a casual gait that emanated a confidence that many would envy, or so Madison imagined. He waved to her casually before ordering his coffee, and, as she waited, Madison played with her own coffee cup, wiping away the red tinted lip gloss that had been left behind on the white plastic. Her mind was screaming something at her, maybe even many somethings, but none she could decipher properly.
Her nothing musings were interrupted as the chair across from her scraped against the rough-hewn tile.
“Hello, Madi,” Nick said, his voice thick and wonderful.
“Heya, Teach,” she replied, her voice sounding false in her ears.
He shifted, forcing her hazel eyes up to watch him. He looked nervous, she thought, watching as a hand moved up to brush his hair away, only to have it fall right back where it was. She briefly wondered what it would be like to brush her own fingers through his hair, but toyed with her own to get rid of the thought.
“Is something wrong with my writing?” She blurted the question more than asked it. She needed to have something cohesive to talk about, hold onto.
“Hm?” He looked up, his dark eyes pools that spoke in volumes. He was nervous, she could see that. “Oh, no, no. I asked you here because, well, there’s a few…issues I’d like to take care of.”
“You’re kicking me out of the class.”
“What?” He chuckled. “No, why on earth would I?”
Madison could only breathe for a moment. “Uhmmm...I don’t…know.” God, she felt like an idiot.
“I need to put this out there, because I fear that the other students will pick up on it, or I may favor you, or…I’m babbling.”
“No, I like your babbling.” Madison’s eyes widened a moment and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, I can’t talk around you.” She stood up. “I need to go.”
Nick stood, placing a hand on her shoulder as he moved to her side effortlessly. “No, you don’t. I’ve put this off for too long and we need to resolve it now.”
“There’s a we in this?” Madison asked, cocking her brows.
“Yes. And there needs to not be.”
Somehow, Madison found her chair again, nodding. “I’m bidding school policy wouldn’t be too hot on this subject, huh?”
Nick seemed perplexed a moment before joining her at the table once more. “I…didn’t think you’d understand.”
Leaning forward on her elbows, Madison looked him in the eyes. “I’m guessing a café is not your normal conferencing area.”
“No.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t want to be alone with me.”
His eyes searched for someplace else to look, but flicked right back to meet her gaze. “No.”
Madison nodded. “I thought so.” She sat back casually, but somehow felt as if her heart might break. “There’s nothing we can do other than go on. Ignore it and go on.”
The sound of the steamer screamed in the café, groups chattered over the sound about nothing in particular, and the blender buzzed noisily over that. But between the student and teacher – nothing.
Author's Note:
I wrote this little ditty while I was going through yet another writing class in college. I had a crush on a Teacher's Assistant, and, me being the curious little deviant that I am, I decided to write it out, transferring it into the English department I'm more familiar with. Damn Madi, here, decided to go and be all responsible on me, though, and end it. Nic was sensible, too, so I went with my characters. There is an alternate version which is a lot more flushed out and a great deal more irresponsible/happy ending-ish. Let me know if you want to see it, too. I just love the ending on this one! :D
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