Yesterday was a gloomy, dank January day, and I felt as though I was coming down with my usual winter cold. Still, I had errands to run, and when I returned home and checked my e-mails, the long awaited contract for my book of connected short stories was waiting.
I always read such documents with a sense of trepidation, but after finishing a first read of the twenty-two page document, I could only smile, pump a fist, and say, "Yes!"
The publisher is a small house in Massachusetts, and my connection to it had been serendipitous. Mike, the house's principal, had written me back almost two years ago following a submittal of one of the short stories. He wanted to publish the story in an anthology of his, but he'd noted a mention in my submittal letter that the story was one of a collection of connected stories. Could he see the collection?
It took another two months to finish the collection as I'd intended it, and I wanted Lyn, my writing pal, to see it before I sent it on. Lyn had a number of her usual practiced insights and that made for a few more edits. Finally I sent it. Mike wrote back soon thereafter, saying his readers had liked the stories but it seemed a bit thin for their publishing interests. Could I write more?
I didn't want to write filler fluff, but I did promise three more stories, which took a couple of months more to write. I made more tightening edits to the whole thing and sent it on. Mike and his staff were happy with what I done, and he promised me a contract.
This was in the fall of 2011. Then came the wait. And finally the contract. A good day. A really good day.
Causes Bob Mustin Supports
Native American culture. Education. Creative writing.