One year ago today, I announced to the world (via this blog) that I was repurposing it to focus on the creative writing journey I was about to launch. It all felt new and fresh and, in some ways, intimidating.
In my inaugural post, I posed the question, “Maybe Fitzgerald was wrong?” and wrote:
“There are no second acts in American life,” wrote F. Scott Fitzgerald.
Maybe he was wrong. More likely, I’ve misinterpreted the meaning of that assertion, as have many others, apparently.
Anyway, in hopes of a fresh start in 2024 as I conclude a nearly 33-year career in higher education, I plan to commit more time to my first love: writing. And here’s where I’ll do it, right here on this blog I abandoned nearly six years ago.
This post marks the beginning of this second act, one devoted to writing for the fun of it.
Today, I’m happy to report to you, dear reader, that I’m still having fun on this journey. And finding a bit of success along the way.
Last Thursday, January 2, I received my first rejection from a literary magazine. Boo. Hiss. But such is the plight of the writer. I grumble a bit and move on to the next email in the queue.
Then, a few minutes after reading that note — which was very kind, by the way; the editor spoke admirably of my voice and all, but said the story wasn’t a good fit for their journal — I find my first acceptance of 2025. w00t!
That story will be published later this month on the literary website Roi Fainéant Press, which published my flash fiction piece “Narcissus on the Deck,” last September.
In celebration, I poured myself a second (or third?) cup of coffee and basked in my first hit of 2025. Like a baseball player who starts the first game of the season with a hit after a miss, I’m elated by my good fortune and .500 batting average.
A few sips in to that delicious cup, I peeked at my email to find the morning’s third message from a literary magazine:
Thank you for sending us your work. We appreciate the chance to read it, but, unfortunately, we will not be publishing your submission at this time.
Oof.
As quickly as my .500 batting average for 2025 arrived, so it quickly dropped to .333. In baseball, that’s still a respectable average — and .500 is insane and unsustainable — so I’ll take it. And I’ll keep swinging for the fences in 2025. I hope you do too.
Image via Openverse.
Andy writes! 