The Short Story

10-05-2012

So today I, on a whim, went onto the Irish Times website to see if they had any information about the short story contest. It turns out that they have printed up a "Long List" of entries, which runs to seventeen pages. The list was closed today and I didn't make it.

Ah well, you can't have any luck it would seem. So since there is no conflict of interest I am going to post the story below for people to read and rebuke at will



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The hospital smell assaulted my nostrils as I sat on the edge of the gurney, waiting. For as far back as I can remember I've always hated hospitals. I watched my grandmother wither away to nothing and die in one. My father took his last breath in one. I even spent a few months in one myself, going through the most horrific experience of my twenty-nine years on this Earth. Every sniff brought all those memories back into the spotlight. Memories I would rather not dwell on as I know only too well how lucky I am to be here now.



Whomp.



On the counter a tattered copy of the newspaper sat. I reached over and picked it up, flicking through the pages in an attempt to find something else to occupy my mind with.



Whomp.



Doom and gloom from cover to cover. People loosing their jobs. Families leaving for foreign shores. Politicians so out of touch with the struggles of the people as they sat on their pregnant wallets. Taxes and more taxes. Levies, the new political buzzword, for this and that. I would have been better off dwelling on the past.



Whomp.Whomp.



Folding the paper I drop it back on the counter. I've enough depression floating around in my head just being back in this place without the need to add more. These days it's almost as if a health warning should come with a newspaper. Caution this document has no happy stories in it at all.



Whomp. Whomp.



Resting my hands on the side of the gurney the paper-thin sheet crumples between my fingers. I'm getting anxious now, I can feel it building. It's this place, getting at me. Getting under my skin.



Whomp. Whomp. Whomp.



Then I hear it; the sound. It forces its way into my thoughts, demanding to be heard. It is the most amazing thing I had ever listened to. All of the world's famous compositions are like alley cats screeching in comparison.



Whomp. Whomp. Whomp.



Comparison? There is no comparison, how could their be. How can you compare the sound of a miracle? After everything I had been through we had been prepared for the worst. Prepared to have to use routes not traditional. Yet here we, in the sort of building I hate the most, listening to the sound of an angel's heartbeat.



Whomp. Whomp. Whomp.Whomp.



A strong heartbeat according to the doctor. Our first child has a strong heartbeat and everything else looks as healthy as healthy can be. Nothing wrong, no complications. Everything is perfect and right in the world.



Whomp. Whomp. Whomp.Whomp.



That sound pushes everything away. The doom and gloom from the newspaper. It replaces all the old memories with a glorious new one. I look up from the floor and smile at the black and white image on the screen before me.

-Derek

Across The Pond

24-04-2012

The search continues, as we all knew it would. Beyond being told that my work had been sent onto another department in a publishing house I have no real news to tell. The inbox has been fairly quiet and no amount of clicks can speed up the process.

But, as the lady friend is forever telling me, this is just a numbers game at the end of the day. You keep submitting to agents until one of them takes you on.

Now, while it may be "rude" to submit to another agent while I am waiting for a final answer from one it would also be foolish to do nothing. After all, I may never hear from this agent. I only found out it had even been sent on by asking the person I submitted to for an update if they had one. Therefore waiting for something, even a rejection email, could be a long wait.

Hence why I went and found a few more agents that I could submit to. Even going so far as to find some more agents that take submissions via email.

These three agents mark my first submission to US agents, breaking with my traditional UK and Ireland list. I haven't fully examined everyone on the list. So far out of the seven I went to two are no longer functioning and one has a paradoxical statement about "taking on new unheard of writers" while also stating they "do not accept unsolicited manuscripts".

If I was solicited I would probably not be unknown .

Anyway of the four left from my quick lunchtime search three take email submissions or queries via email. So I figured why not, onwards and upwards.

The waiting game continues, there are just more pieces on the board now

-Derek