I’m usually very good about NOT counting my fiction chickens before they hatch. Assuming anything in the land of writing fiction is a recipe for disappointment. I’ll admit to the usual bestseller daydreams, but I don’t let those hopeful musings get in the way of real work and concrete victories — however small. That’s why I’m suffering from an unexpected case of disappointment whiplash.
This post was supposed to be about one of those small triumphs, a stepping-stone for unknown writers like me. Late last year I heard that Huffington Post was asking for short fiction submissions. I asked a couple of friends with literary, as opposed to genre, taste in fiction which of my stories to send and I was thrilled when it was accepted.
Emails flew back and forth. I sent a bio. I sent a headshot. I discovered that the Huffington Post offices were a few blocks from my home. I was also informed that my story would run on or about April 28 and that they would let me know if there was a change.
Early in April I sent an email to verify that my story was still scheduled to run on April 28. No reply. I tried again. I also noticed that, although the date at the top of the page was current, new stories had not been added in recent weeks. Did they stop the program a few weeks before it was my story’s turn?
I tried again. The nice guy from my earlier correspondence simply didn’t respond. As he’d made a point of saying how much he enjoyed my story, receiving no response felt like a rejection.
Now what? I’m not sure. There doesn’t seem to be anything I can do except to go back to my general policy of not counting my fiction chickens until they hatch.