I don't think I've been this excited about a short story sale in a long time. Like, seriously, when do I ever post about short fiction sales? I like to post when there's something to link to. But this is what happens when you stretch yourself and go places you've never gone before, and someone likes it, validates it, says that all that work was well done and not a waste. You get a little excited.
In other words, I sold the YA vampire story I posted about a few weeks back! (Amended title: In the Future When All's Well) I jumped up and down and squeaked and did a little dance. I can't tell you where it sold just yet, but believe me, I'll let you know when I can. Let's just say I really wanted this acceptance.
I don't usually dedicate things. Novels, sure, although it's tough, because most of my novels should be dedicated to justbeast, who supports me and nurtures me and beta-reads, and I feel like every novel should have its own dedicatee. But I've only ever dedicated one short story before. Nevertheless, though I don't think she will ever read it or understand why, I'm going to dedicate this one to my sister, who inspired the main character. I'm not going to send it to her or anything. We didn't really grow up together, and not everyone thinks it's a compliment to have a protagonist modeled after them, especially when it involves vampires and high school and a lot of f-bombs. But a small part of the story, in the end, maybe the core of the story, was her. The soccer scholarship girl, the golden child. Look, little sis: I made you a heroine. So when it says "for HRT" under the title, you'll know who that means, even if she never sees it.
I'm so pleased! My beautiful assistant, corvaxgirl , who as part of her assistant perks gets to read everything the minute I finish it, loved it and begged me to make a novel out of it. Part of me wants to, part of me thinks the story thrives on floating in that ambiguous space, and a novel would necessarily have to break that tension. Part of me can't shake how powerful it was for me to write that story, how, even though the deadline is pretty far off, every other thing I'm working on slid away for a few days while I just had to write this thing. And maybe there's more there. I don't dare think about it--there's too much else to be done. And yet. And yet.
Rules for Anchorites
Letters from Proxima Thule