And then, I get distracted by obsessing over the numbers: Okay, so there were 1,242 entries. So that means I have a 1 in 414 chance of winning. But, that does not account for how many might actually have been good. Hm, let's assume that half of them were really pretty good. That gives me a 1 in 207 chance of winning. Wow. I still don't like those odds.
So I guess I should just stop crunching numbers and start looking for an alternate home for my story. Just in case.
I am working on compiling a list of leads for future reference. I am creating a list with hyperlinks to the websites, because I want to make sure that the contact information and such are the most current available.
I have also made a submissions spreadsheet so I can keep track of what is out pending
This makes me sound oh-so-much-more-organized than I really am. My real life consists of writing articles at the kid's bus stop at 7:30 a.m., writing on my lunch break, writing when no one is looking, and writing at home after the kids go to bed. I try to work in 500 words of my novel each day, and I am also scouting about for short story contests that might be promising.
That's a lot of writing. I wish more of it could be dedicated to my novel, though.
It seems a bit strange to me that I can get paid for my words, that my words have actual monetary value. So strange. As in I-am-going-to-wake-up-any-minute strange, or soon-they-will-realize-I-am-not-a-real-writer odd.
Oh, oh! I also have a print article coming out in a local publication in January. This makes me deliriously happy. It makes me ponder whether there is a discreet way I can "accidentally" leave the magazine (conveniently open to my article page) at several family members' homes. Not out of pride or spite, mind you, but just to prove the nay-sayers wrong. Okay. Um...maybe there is a bit of pride and spite there... Rats.
At any rate, I am plugging along. If any of you know of any good horror/fantasy markets for short stories, or can offer any words of encouragement, or ways to deal with the endless waiting, please let me know...maybe you can help curtail another pointless round of number-crunching.
And, since I am too lazy to find a more appropriate photo to somehow neatly wrap up the non-existent theme of this rambling post, I offer you this:
|My cat's eyes glass over at my incessant number crunching...|