Submitting, Trunking and The Sword of Damocles
Submitting and Trunking
It’s been while since I’ve posted, but today I thought I would, just to let the internet know I still exist. Life has been hectic (normal for most of us) and when I’ve had time to write, I’ve been focussing on my stories rather than my blog posts, especially since there’s been little news of any kind this year.
Why is that? Well, I sold most of the stories I had circulating up until now, except for a couple I’ve decided to trunk. One of those, I still like, and I may brush it off and deal with the ending that I think is the problem in due course. Maybe it would make a good competition entry if I have a tight timeframe…which could be the case later this year. The other one…well…there’s something about it that I don’t like, and I think I’d rather not have it published as it is. I wasn’t unhappy to receive its latest rejection. Rather, the time out had made me comfortable with the idea of trunking it for now.
This year, my submission rate has dropped. Partly because I’ve worked on several longer stories (which have less chance of selling due to their length), and so far only one is in final submittable condition. Those that remain on submission are stories I’m happy to have out there, and I hope they find homes. Some of the responses are taking a long time. One of the hazards of having my writing improve is that stories get to second and final round status more frequently, which means replies take longer to arrive. That’s okay. I stop thinking about submission results and just get on with writing my stories.
The Sword of Damocles
Right now, I have a huge obstacle in the way of my writing – a major house renovation. Something that I should also take maximum enjoyment in tackling, since this is my one chance in the next two decades to do this and hopefully get it as right as I am capable of doing.
I used to be an architect, and though I’ve been away from that for a long time now, I’m finding myself sucked into every detail of finish and fixture. My reading has become focussed on specification documents and fabrication pdfs – it’s amazing the tiny details you find tucked away in these that are not in their sales documents.
An example: last weekend, my husband and I drove an hour to a stone warehouse to see a brand new material suitable for kitchen counters. This stuff is amazing: you can put a blow torch on it and it won’t burn; you can pour acid on it and it won’t etch; you can strike it with a chisel and it won’t chip. That’s what we need, we thought, something we don’t need to think about, that we can’t possibly destroy. Something I can let my kids cook on without nagging them to be careful all the time.
We were keen for this to work. Very keen.
But, like superheroes, every material, no matter how fantastic, has its weakness.
Everything we left on this ceramic came off as advertised – unlike a piece of sealed, honed marble we loved, which we destroyed with the same combination of tests overnight: balsamic vinegar, coffee, red wine, oil, turmeric. Unlike even engineered quartz, where something (try turmeric) always seems to leave a faint impression on the resin.
Then I rapped the marble with the end of a glass supermarket pepper grinder. It made three pits. “Watch this!” I said to my husband, and imitated the advertisement for the ceramic by striking it with the grinder, not nearly as hard as I’d seen demonstrated with a chisel. It didn’t chip at all. Not at all.
It shattered into three pieces.
We told ourselves the real thing would be much thicker than our sample, and it would be okay. Then, in a moment of obsession, I read the fabrication manual. Right at the very end: do not hit with blunt, heavy objects or the material may chip or shatter.
Oh.
No qualification based on the thickness of the ceramic, either.
And my kitchen is filled with blunt, heavy objects. Can I guarantee I won’t hit my bench with one in the next three years, let alone twenty?
To us, this was the sword of Damocles, waiting to fall on our bench.
So much for wonderful new materials!
