Last year I concocted a short-short story about a man strolling into a nearby woods by the light of a full moon, and beginning to feel uneasy amidst forest sounds.
I began sending it off – and collecting rejection slips. Finally, I read it to the poets and writers group that gathers at Seabury. They all agreed that my two early paragraphs describing the forest were cumbersome and unnecessary , and must discourage further reading. I excised those paragraphs, did a bit more tweaking, and began sending it off again.
Within days, email brought an acceptance slip — of the old version!
The editor agreed that the new version was better – and it’s out now, in Macrame Literary Magazine.
To read it, go ==>>here,  and scroll down to fiction.

   Calliope is the quarterly literary magazine of American Mensa’s Writers Special Interest Group, which makes it a super-demanding market, with circulation in almost every state and a half-dozen countries.
Although I’ve never even tried to join (Mensa is open only to the top 2 percent of IQs), I’ve submitted to them occasionally – but only my best work. I’m flattered that they’ve accepted three of my four offerings. The latest, Jigsaw Puzzle, is just out; you can read it ==>>at their website

An astonishing number of magazines invite short stories that are fantasies or science fiction, genres at which I’ve never been very good.

But the idea came to me one day of a shy older woman who moved into a retirement community such as the one in which I live, hesitant about getting to know the place, but is given a boost by an ancient aunt who unexpectedly arrives. In describing her, I made her sound a bit like Mary Poppins.

In the ensuing weeks, I got no nibbles, so I tweaked it a bit, making the aunt explicitly a Mary Poppins figure. That did it: “Aunt Carrie” is out now in Commuter Lit, a Canadian e-zine that specializes in short stories that can be read on the way to or from work, and welcomes “sci fi, fantasy, horror, mystery, romance . . ..”

You can read it => online

 

Time was when a writer sent a story off to a magazine in an oversized envelope, enclosing a stamped return envelope, and waited months for a reply; when it came back as a rejection, one sent it off to another magazine.

It’s easier nowadays: one submits electronically, and sending to several simultaneously is usually acceptable. But it’s still uphill work: many literary magazines publish more poems than fiction, often as few as two or three stories in each edition. Most receive hundreds of submissions, so even the best are often declined. Most rejections come in boilerplate language, but I find occasional editors writing a personal note, typically saying my story just didn’t mesh with others accepted, and urging that I submit again.

Usually, when rejections of a story near double digits, I take a hard look, and often do some significant rewriting to improve it. But sometimes I don’t see much I can do to make a story really better, so I persist in sending it off.

“The Emissary” is such a story: A wise old woman embraces the wife his son is divorcing, with an unexpected conclusion. I had 16 rejection notes when the editors of the respected Massachusetts-based Meat for Tea, The Valley Review accepted it.

Unlike many others, Meat for Tea won’t let you read it online; they want you to buy a copy for $12. But you CAN read it free ==>here at my blog:

There may be a bit of autobiography in most works of fiction; we write best about what we know best. In any case, there is a lot in my short story “Inventions”, just published in OpenDoor Magazine on the theme of Labyrinth.

I’ve changed names, and my narrator’s life is fictional in most respects, but the description of his boyhood pal’s invention of an electric lawnmower is straight from my vivid memory, as is the huge sled in its shower of sparks.

I never got to any of my high school reunions: the folks moved from New Jersey to Long Island to Ohio during my college years. But if I’d been able to keep up with my real-life boyhood pal, I fear the real-life story would have ended as I’ve ended the story.

I’m sorry the OpenDoor creators are giving it up, but understand; a lot of hard work for little if any profit. But I’ll miss them; this is the fourth piece of mine they’ve published it. Find my Inventions ==>>online and scroll down to page 69.

Or, easier, read it ==>>right here

In conjuring up story ideas, I find myself exploring loneliness among seniors — a condition familiar to many of my retirement-community neighbors, although few talk about it.
I’m not sure how the idea came to me, but I imagined a man who was devastated when his wife divorced him years ago, who now reads of her death and wants to attend her memorial service. The story finally came together as “Parting Thoughts”. I sent it off to several magazines, including one called Discretionary Love that published my “Deja vu” last year. They liked this new one, too; it’s the lead short story in their May display; you can read it ==>there

 

Cosmic Daffodil Journal, an online magazine that published my “Outliving Sin” earlier this year, invited very short (600-word) stories with a Yin-Yang theme: exploring opposites.

That brought to mind a very real test of opposites here at Seabury where I live: Should our walking paths lead us through a pristine city park, or through a natural woods with dead and dying trees that give life to birds and other wildlife?
My offering, “A Sawyer’s Education”, is published this month. You can read it at Yin & Yang Ebook (scroll to the bottom of page, then to page 89)

OR, to avoid navigating cyberspace, read it ==>>right here

It is hardly surprising that in the retirement community where I live, median age 85, there are occasional conversations about planning for our demise. One of those prompted a short-short story that’s just been published by Flora Fiction. I’d send you there to read it, but it’s one of the literary magazines that wants you to buy a copy to read any of the contents, so it’s easiest for you to read it ==>here at my blog

A neighbor put out word earlier this year that he had lost or misplaced a key, asking that anyone who found it get it to him. A skeleton key.

By happy coincidence, a literary magazine that had published me before put out a call for short stories that might be illustrated with a simple image. Perfect! I began toying with the idea of a teen-ager finding such a key that would open his father’s liquor cabinet.

As it turned out, the prompting magazine held The Golden Key until the last minute and then said no-thanks. The next one I tried said my story had “come close”. A few months later an online magazine I hadn’t tried before, Backchannels, took it; it’s available now ==>>here

Every time I have a story published that touches on loneliness in old age, I hear appreciative murmurs from neighbors in the retirement community I call home ( which is the model for my Harmony Acres stories). Occasional loneliness, I think, is a given among single folks of advanced age.
So I expect to hear approval of my A Bench with a View, published this week in Halcyon Days — perhaps the handsomest literary magazines that’s carried my work. I’m glad to have made it into their final edition.

You’ll only need to scroll down a couple of pages to read it online, on pages 3-4; look for the deer in shafts of forest sunlight here.  (If I float my cursor around it turns into a plus sign that obligingly makes the text big enough to reae comfortably.)

(Or, although you’ll miss the art, you can read it right here)