I've been putting in several hours a day writing just like every day. It's the same thing all of us do. Work, work, work, and keeping working. Make sentences, tell stories, build something memorable with our craft. All the things we all know.
So work.
I received a submission today from a writer who stated in his bio that he had had more than fifty pieces published. Maybe, maybe not. I don't know. The website he linked to for himself only had an About page. I'm not trying to be a prick. Really, I'm not. If he's working hard every day to improve then I'm all for that. If he's not it's his business. But I rejected his story.
Cliché. Worn out language. You have to get rid of that immediately before phrases become sentences and they breed and before you know it every paragraph is generally something somebody else said before you.
In his first paragraph there were four of these - an ill-fitting suit, beads of sweat dancing, broken dreams, and the other I can't remember.
He could have sent me something shitty, something from his bottom drawer, something he knew wasn't good hoping I would just publish it because I can't help but to publish any and all submissions sent my way. I don't know. And I just don't know. I only thought I'd mention this. I wanted to write him and offer some feedback but couldn't figure out a way to do it without seeming like a prick. So I'm sharing it here because I had to get rid of it from my mind.
Sometimes this place is a dump station. I'm sorry about that.
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