I recently published a flash story, “Pulling up the Moon” (and blogged about it here as well). As I was posting the news about it on the usual social networks, I started to wonder: how many stories have I sold?
I went back through my archives, including downloads from diskettes, for Buddha’s sake, until I was able to reconstruct a fairly accurate record of how many pieces of fiction were bought by an editor (though not necessarily published).
50. That’s how many. Fifty stories. (There was a bit of poetry and other things but let’s focus on the core.) How did that happen?
I was that many years old when I went to my first professional writing workshop, Viable Paradise. I learned many things, made some serious industry contacts, and made a commitment to taking this whole writing thing seriously. Before VP, I’d sold 7 stories, 2 to pro markets.
Not long after I graduated from VP, I sold my 8th story (“Layover”) to a pro market, which earned me Full Member status at SFWA.
The time between the 7th & 8th sale was… 19 years. That first ten were a time of much darkness and confusion. The next nine were pretty much devoted to parenting and DayJob™.
I still wrote during the interregnum. And submitting. Don’t get me wrong. I was missing the target, though. Not sticking the landing. Flaying about with mediocre ideas. Et cetera.
The next few years saw a gradual, not quite consistent, improvement in both the quality and quantity of my fiction output (and concurrent submissions). The sales ticked up.
In 2023, I managed to sell a dozen stories. Six so far this year.
I don’t have a favorite. Some of definitely stronger than others (and SF doesn’t always age well). For my flash stories, I’m quite fond of “We Who Stay Behind,” “Stones of Särdal,” and “The Last Best Day of Antonio Silveri, Ph.D.” There are many others that showcase some darker humor, like “Five Things You Should Know Before Summoning a Demon” and “Harry the Ice Man.” In the slightly longer range, I still like “Papa Pedro’s Children” and “The Astrologer of the Fifth Floor.” “Sullied Flesh” has surprised me with its prescience. “Schadenfreuders” makes me smile.
“Jizo Rides the Bus” was my answer to grief. The memorable stories all seem to have their own unique origin.
This journey started on a Mac 256K (remember those?) in 1988 with “Potential Gains” for Beyond magazine (photocopied and stapled by hand) and continues on a MacBook, where I composed “Pulling up the Moon” for Stupefying Stories.
If I get to 100 stories, I suppose I’m legally required to write a novel.
Thanks for reading.
Karl
