Today, I sent out four short story submissions. That means I currently have five stories out cycling the markets, and that is more than I’ve had out in years! These aren’t new stories, and some are older than others. These are my orphaned stories, the ones I started submitting and then somewhere along the way, lost faith in, and neglected to continue submitting. Some of them have long itineraries left to go through before being officially “retired.” Some only have one market left they’re suitable for. But I feel so good having gone through my list, located those who still need to get out (and those that have, in fact, run the gamut even if I thought they hadn’t yet), and got them out. That’s not even including reprints I could submit, because I’ve got a couple of those, too.

These aren’t new stories, but I’m so glad they’re getting their shot out there. With some of these stories, I remember getting to a point where I just hated the thought of them. Looking back now, though, from a year or two’s distance, I’m surprised I was so upset. They’re solid stories, and some of them I really, truly love. They got fogged out in my memory, from weeks of revisions and rejections from favored markets–I couldn’t see them properly anymore. But instead of just keeping on, like I’ve heard advised any number of times by professional authors, I got hung up on them, and put them in a drawer to forget about.

Today, I got almost all of my orphaned stories out. I am likely inviting a big backlash of rejections in a few days or weeks which will bum me out, but unlike before, I will not stop there. I will send these stories to their next markets, or–if it’s one of the few who have already jumped all the hoops–I’ll set them aside as lovingly retired, until an anthology call comes up that they might be just right for with a few tweaks. But they’re good stories, and I do hope some of them find the perfect home.

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