“But I don’t feel published”

by Mary Sutton / @mary_sutton73

Welcome to today’s installment of “authorial existential angst,” episode 4,584.

Today’s episode was triggered by seeing the announcement that the William F. Deeck award from Malice Domestic, for unpublished mystery authors, has extended its deadline to December 15, 2015. And I thought, “Hmm. I’m an unpublished mystery author. I have a novel manuscript. This could be intriguing.”

So I started digging to find eligibility and submission requirements. And I dug, and dug, and dug some more.

And, uh, I’m not eligible.

Say what?

Yes, the guidelines on the Malice Domestic web page say entrants must not have published a “novel, short fiction, or dramatic work” in any medium, print, electronic, or audio. I’ve had six short stories published, between Mysterical-e, Uppagus, and Lucky Charms. In fact, according to this criteria, I stopped being an “unpublished” author in September 2013 when Uppagus published my first piece (the flash-fiction story Twins).

Okay, on the one had – how awesome! Malice Domestic, one of the premiere mystery organizations out there, doesn’t consider me unpublished. Yay!

On the other hand, uh, really?

See, here’s the problem. I don’t feel published. I mean, I’ve never received financial remuneration from anybody on the “sale” of my stories. They aren’t novels. Somehow it doesn’t feel as if they count.

And here’s where several of my friends, including ones who love short fiction, are going to rightfully call me out. Short fiction absolutely counts. Those are all publication credits. I am published. In fact, one of my Sisters in Crime sibs is pretty emphatic about it (and she won a major award, the Black Orchid Novella contest, so she ought to know of which she speaks).

But none of this dispels the feeling that, uh, really? I’m published? Nah.

I would feel like the rankest fraud standing up next to some of my friends, who have actual books on the market, and claim to be published. No way.

Thus, episode 4,584 of authorial angst.

I’ve taken workshops. I know instructors, people who have a lot of stuff in the world, who would say, “Yep, you’re published.” My rational brain knows they are right. When I sent out a piece to Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, and received a very nice rejection, I listed “previous publication credits.” Mysterical-e doesn’t pay, but I’ve been told their credibility in the industry is high.

But the angsty part of my brain is not rational. Doggone it, published authors get paid, they have books for heavens sake. Right? (And note I’m restricting this to crime fiction, folks.)

Yeah, yeah, I know. Not right. Still.

So I guess, according to Malice Domestic, the next time someone asks me, “Are you published?” I can legitimately say, “Why yes I am.”

Maybe next time I won’t even feel like a fraud. Much. At least according to Malice Domestic.

Image courtesy of iConte, used under Creative Commons license