Still no actual fiction writing again this week - the fiction crew are definitely on shore leave at the moment, leaving the nonfiction crew to stoke the boilers on their own.
One of the most important pieces of advice for writers submitting their work for publication is - read the guidelines really carefully and follow them to the letter. It may seem petty and unfair to be penalised for using the wrong font or being a few words outside the word limit. But the quickest way to get rejected is to fail to follow the guidelines, as this gives the editor a very easy way to whittle down what might be an impractically large submission pile.
The fiction crew are still on shore leave, it seems, but the non-fiction crew are picking up the slack.
After nothing at all last week, I worked on writing projects to at least some degree every day this week. Not much progress on the fiction front, but lots of nonfiction stuff, some cogitation on fiction stuff, and plenty of sending my darlings out into the world to be judged.
“Is it dead?”
“I can’t tell from here. Why don’t you go and give it a poke?”
“Eww! No, you do it!”
“You’re the one who wants to know if it’s dead.”
“I wonder how it got here.”
“I don’t know. Flew?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“It looks kind of sad, just lying there like that.”
“Do you think it belongs to somebody?”
“Must do. It didn’t just materialise out of thin air.”
“But it’s not the sort of thing you just leave lying around. I mean, you’re not going to drop something like that without noticing.”
“But nobody’s taking any notice of it now.”
“Well, yes, except us.”
“What should we do?”
“What can we do? If you’re not prepared to get any closer, there aren’t many options. I guess we could throw something at it from here.”
“Like what? A brick? What are you thinking of?”
“It hasn’t moved the whole time we’ve been standing here. It doesn’t look good, I’m afraid.”
“Well, we can’t just leave it lying there like that.”
“Why not? It’s nothing to do with us. Why should we care if it’s alive or dead?”
“I don’t know. I just thought maybe we ought to do something. You know, to help.”
“How? We could chuck it some money, I suppose.”
“What would a thing like that do with money?
“I don’t know. We haven’t got any food.”
“Maybe it needs a place to stay.”
“I’m not taking it home with us.”
“I think I just saw it move!”
“What? No, you didn’t! You’re imagining things.”
“No, I swear. Look, it did it again. Its foot twitched. I’m not kidding!”
“You’re right. I saw it that time.”
“It’s rolling over. It’s looking this way!”
“What should we do?”