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Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Flannery O'Connor

April 1st brings that special time of the year when I package up my latest unpublished short story collection, write a check for $25, and send it off to the Flannery O'Connor Award for Short Fiction at the University of Georgia Press. (Above is last year's rejection.)  Why do I do it? I believe I have this fine lady's rejection to blame.  


Anonymous said...

Good luck! I hope this year works out for you.


Anonymous said...

But you know you'll never win, don't you?

Writer, Rejected said...

You know, what's funny about that comment, Anon? I've been watching my dog chase birds this week, now that it's Spring. She just gets out there and chases and chases and chases. And I kind of think she knows that she's never going to catch one, but it doesn't really dampen her spirit. She loves the chase; she loves the feel of the wind in her ears; she loves to run around. It makes her feel alive. So it's a good lesson for us.

What would I be doing otherwise, if not chasing elusive literary goals? Sitting around on my ass at a job I hated? (As it is I write a lot of stuff for money that means nothing to me.) But to answer your question: yes, of course, I know. But I guess I don't care. Well, okay, you got me. I care a little. But I'm still involved in the chase. At least for now.