I’m a little late in announcing this, but better late than never!
A little while back, I wrote a short story about a village that endures constant raiding from a better equipped neighboring village. Fearing for the future of his village, the elder turns to the skies and asks for help from his deity…and well things change for both villages.
My story was accepted into the “Playing with Fire” themed anthology from the fine folks at Third Flatiron Publishing. It also happens to be my first sale of a story so obviously it means a lot to me on many levels.
There are a lot of great, well-written stories in the anthology. You can check it out at Amazon or at Smashwords.
Write without pay until someone offers pay. If nobody offers within three years, the candidate may look upon this as a sign that sawing wood is what he was intended for.
– Mark Twain
It’s been a little over two years since I became serious about my writing. Since then I’ve had a lot of ups and downs, learned tons, and maybe even progressed. Two years in, I can finally say that someone liked one of my stories enough to pay for it.
I finally sold my first short story!
It feels really good to look at a check that has my name on it. It validates all of the hard work I’ve put in trying to become a better writer. Had I gone three years without selling anything, I wouldn’t have taken up a career in lumber. Writing has become such an important part of my life. I’ll continue to do it whether or not someone pays me (but it sure is nice).
I’ll have more on that story as the publication date of the anthology it is appearing in draws near.
“This. Is. Unbelievable,” Candace shrieked, sticking her head out of the car window and holding her nose. “You brought me here? Really? This is the big surprise? A big nasty barn that smells like a guy’s locker room?”
Her dad was already out of the car and opening the back hatch to remove their suitcases. “How do you know what a…never mind. You are going to have a great time,” he said. “You’re going to get to do all of the awesome stuff I did growing up.”
Her dad grunted as he pulled her bright pink suitcase out of the trunk and set it down with a thump. “Like milking the cows, riding the horses, swimming in the swimming hole, riding the tractor, planting seeds! Oh baby, you haven’t lived until you’ve sowed a field. It’s a lot like –“
“I am not getting out of this car.”
This is a snippet of a story I wrote for Issue 8 of Writers Haven. You can read the rest here. I urge you to head on over to the website and read through the entire issue. There are a lot of wonderful stories from some very talented writers.