So, I noticed that my inevitable rejection from F&SF, my own stamped self-addressed envelope, felt a little odd. Heavy. There was more than a single slip in there. Had they returned the first page of my disposable manuscript with some comments handwritten on it, or something?
F&SF is the last paper hold-out in a world of electronic submissions. Walking to the post office, ten days ago, with the manuscript and the manilla envelope and my SASE, was like a journey back in time, back to the 90s, when I’d done this several hundred times. This was my second submission to them this year–they had liked my last submission, but not loved it. Their response time has been quick lately, very quick. I’m guessing that the paper only submissions keeps the slush down to a degree.
So, I opened the envelope, and a check fell out.
No acceptance letter; just a contract, a W2 form, and a check for 330.00 dollars.
Well. That escalated quickly.
Well. It’s was my 13th submission to the magazine, the first was 20 years ago. 2013, my 50th year, is turning out to be something amazing. A second chance at a dream I gave up on more than a decade ago.
On closer examination, I noticed the envelope was not my SASE; it was the magazine’s stationary, and their stamp; you don’t send an acceptance back in the writer’s SASE, I guess? I seem to remember that, now, I sawwhat I had expected to see.
Never give up. Never give up. Never give up.