Two bits for reality
I got my copy of Interzone 209 today. It's the 25th anniversary edition, so lots of big names, fanfare, what have you. It's also where the results from the annual readers poll are announced. I had no expectations of "winning" or anything, but there was some stuff I didn't realize. I didn't know how deep into the catalogue the poll went, mainly. There were 36 stories eligible for voting, and they listed the top 20. Neither of my stories made that cut. So not only did I not "win," I didn't even make the top 2/3rds. That's...discouraging? I don't know if that's the word for it. I can't even call it frustrating or disappointing. I've become very comfortable with the idea that writing is a very subjective thing, but this is kind of baffling.
Bad confluence of influence, too. This week I pretty much gave up at my job. I got so frustrated I beat my pen against my desk until it shattered. Then I played with a paperclip for about 45 minutes because it was really the only thing I could do other than just walk out and never come back. I mean, I was super busy, but I just stopped caring. I used to put some value in what I did at work, not because the work had value but because I was doing it, and I try to care about the things I do. But that hasn't been working out, so now I'm going with the whole Not Giving a Fuck thing. We'll see how it goes.
3 Comments:
I was pretty freaked out about that, too. I mean, some of the stories on that list I thought were pretty damn weak. I'm baffled. "Distro" was far better than most of them, and "The Song" definitely should have placed.
My Interzone sub expired a while back, and I didn't bother renewing it. Why? Because I like your stories, Tim, but I didn't like much of anything else in the magazine.
Now, I'm just one guy. But I'm a badass motherfucker with good judgement, so I put more stock in my own opinion than that of the other readers.
You're an artist, Tim. You're not a goddamned carpenter, competing to build the best cabinets according to agreed-upon plans.
Laugh it off, Tim. Laugh it the fuck off. And then sit down at the computer, or the notebook, or the clay tablet, and knock us dead with the good words.
I was going to say something about not wanting encouraging words, just venting. But honestly? Thanks. You guys are the best.
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