What does a writer do with that story–the one that comes from the heart, that took everything you had, that you are in love with…the story that you are immeasurably proud of…but just can’t place in any market, no matter how many times it’s submitted?
We’ve all got one. A piece that we worked on, rewrote, edited, poured ourselves into; a piece we are moved by more and more with each rereading. It’s a bummer of magnificent proportions that nobody else seems to see it’s brilliance.
I’ve written many stories, some great and some not so–and I’ve seen several make their way into print (thank you, publishing powers-that-be!). But there’s this one that sits on my hard drive, languishing. It’s one of my personal faves, and yet–“not for us…good luck placing it elsewhere…”
So, there it sits, waiting for an audience, and I scour duotrope every couple months, looking for its home. Poor wayward, homeless (but brilliant!) little thing.