The first week of November, I received a contributer’s copy of an anthology I’ve got a story in (“Land of the Voting Dead” in Zombidays: Festivities of the Flesheaters). I’ve been anxiously awaiting this anthology because it was the first sale I’d made after quite a long spell of “no’s”.
Seeing one of my story in print has a funny effect on me. It makes me anxious to see another one in the same state. Getting paid for it is always nice and something I love, but seeing my story in an anthology is proof…PROOF!…that I’m really a writer and all of the doubters can suck it. Someone bought my story and put it in a book. Take that!
And then it makes me want to see another one of my stories in print.
While working the day job, the short stories fell to the wayside. The urgency behind selling my stories abated in the face of a regular paycheck. Worn down from an 8 hour workday and set in a bullheaded frame of mind that novel revisions had to be done first, I had no brain left for writing and submitting short stories. Piss poor excuses, but it was true.
But holding that anthology in my hands and seeing my name in the table of contents aroused that urge in me again. Working odd jobs to pay the bills instead of a steady one, the urgency is back. The need to have proof of being a writer is strong once again.
I’ve got two more stories that will be coming out in anthologies and while I anticipate a similar rush of euphoria when I get those contributer’s copies, right now it’s not enough. I need more stories out there to be considered. I need more stories to be sold. I need more stories to sell. I need to keep this train rolling.
Because I know when the next contributer’s copy shows up in my mail, that euphoria is only going to last so long before I realize that I’m going to need another fix.
And like any proper junkie, I need to do whatever it takes to feed my habit.