Earlier this week I had a man with a fourth (maybe it was a sixth?) grade education tell me I should go back to college. I have a friend considering the same thing. I used to think that was a good idea, but I've tasted the bitter-real world...I've learned that more schooling is NOT what I need. School is all well and good, but it's a damn expensive way to impress people.
I realized I need to work on getting my career off the ground, so I started editing. I trimmed the fat off a recent short story, and I cracked open the Writer's Market Guide. While I'm not exactly enamored with the short fiction market place (where they want "literary, no sci-fi or romance" or they want "sci-fi no horror or romance--seriously, if you write romance you are fucked) I think that for the time being it's the best place to start. As hard as novel writing is, I think that's the best place for what I do...that said, I'd really like some credits to my name other than Brain Stew and Shorelines.
So, every night this week I've come home and worked. I've edited, read aloud, written cover letters, bought and addressed envelopes. I'm nearly ready to send off some manuscripts. I have no illusions that this will be a long, painful process...but I need to do this (or else give up on this crazy dream of mine). So far, I only have one rejection letter to my name--anyone calling themselves a writer must have a small-pony sized stack by my estimation.
I'm working to get that stack.