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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Flash / Mini / Very Short
- Published: 12/31/2019
How To Type A Murder
During the past ten years that I’ve been trying to get my short stories published in magazines, I’ve committed several murders, but not with a gun or a blunt instrument . . . with my typewriter.
The first happened about a year and a half in.
I had seen a market listing in a writer’s magazine for short stories with an Indiana Jones type of protagonist. The story’s main character could be either male or female, as long as it involved a search for something precious, and had at least one bad guy chasing after the protagonist.
I felt thrilled, because I had just written such a story. Mine took place in outer space. My protagonist was searching for a mysterious artifact that, if acquired, could power an entire planet. So packing off my story to the magazine, I was confident it would be accepted.
Six weeks later, I got my self-addressed stamped envelope back in the mail. Even though I was used to being rejected, it still hurt . . . until I opened the envelope and read the pre-printed rejection slip clipped to my story.
Dear Author,
We’re sorry to inform you that our magazine has ceased publication due to the unexpected death of our editor. If we should acquire a new editor, we will resume publication.
Best Regards,
Lance Sterling, Publisher
At least it wasn’t the story itself that got rejected, I thought. Then after checking in the latest writer’s market, I sent my story off again, while continuing to work on my present manuscript.
A couple more rejections later, I saw another listing that was asking for a type of story similar to one I had in my files. Once again, I felt all kinds of excitement as I sent it off, but then experienced the usual let down when it came back. This time the note said the publication had gone out of business because of unforeseen circumstances. Once again I thought: I almost had it! If only the magazine had not gone belly up! With that, I continued writing and sending out stories. But then after three more magazine closers, I began to wonder, was I somehow responsible for killing all these publications?
Then I saw a listing for a science fiction contest. At least there was no magazine to destroy. So dipping into my files, I sent them one of my more recent stories. I kept my fingers crossed, hoping that I’d at least get an honorable mention, if nothing else. So you can imagine my utter astonishment and joy when I got a call from a childhood friend, who it turned out was a member of the selection committee. He informed me that my story had reached second place! “But don’t tell anyone that you know,” he warned. “When they announce your name at the awards ceremony, make believe you’re totally surprised.”
“I will,” I assured him.
After his phone call, I must have walked around in a happy fog for at least a week. But then I got another call from my friend, who told me that the first place winner had plagiarized his story. That meant my story was now in first place! Once again, he warned me not to tell anyone.
But then one night, while I was watching the news on TV, the commentator informed the viewing public that a certain famous venue had burnt down. I stared in utter shock, because that was where the awards ceremony was to have taken place! Did that mean I was also a murderer of buildings, and not just magazines?
It wouldn’t surprise me.
How To Type A Murder(Tom Di Roma)
How To Type A Murder
During the past ten years that I’ve been trying to get my short stories published in magazines, I’ve committed several murders, but not with a gun or a blunt instrument . . . with my typewriter.
The first happened about a year and a half in.
I had seen a market listing in a writer’s magazine for short stories with an Indiana Jones type of protagonist. The story’s main character could be either male or female, as long as it involved a search for something precious, and had at least one bad guy chasing after the protagonist.
I felt thrilled, because I had just written such a story. Mine took place in outer space. My protagonist was searching for a mysterious artifact that, if acquired, could power an entire planet. So packing off my story to the magazine, I was confident it would be accepted.
Six weeks later, I got my self-addressed stamped envelope back in the mail. Even though I was used to being rejected, it still hurt . . . until I opened the envelope and read the pre-printed rejection slip clipped to my story.
Dear Author,
We’re sorry to inform you that our magazine has ceased publication due to the unexpected death of our editor. If we should acquire a new editor, we will resume publication.
Best Regards,
Lance Sterling, Publisher
At least it wasn’t the story itself that got rejected, I thought. Then after checking in the latest writer’s market, I sent my story off again, while continuing to work on my present manuscript.
A couple more rejections later, I saw another listing that was asking for a type of story similar to one I had in my files. Once again, I felt all kinds of excitement as I sent it off, but then experienced the usual let down when it came back. This time the note said the publication had gone out of business because of unforeseen circumstances. Once again I thought: I almost had it! If only the magazine had not gone belly up! With that, I continued writing and sending out stories. But then after three more magazine closers, I began to wonder, was I somehow responsible for killing all these publications?
Then I saw a listing for a science fiction contest. At least there was no magazine to destroy. So dipping into my files, I sent them one of my more recent stories. I kept my fingers crossed, hoping that I’d at least get an honorable mention, if nothing else. So you can imagine my utter astonishment and joy when I got a call from a childhood friend, who it turned out was a member of the selection committee. He informed me that my story had reached second place! “But don’t tell anyone that you know,” he warned. “When they announce your name at the awards ceremony, make believe you’re totally surprised.”
“I will,” I assured him.
After his phone call, I must have walked around in a happy fog for at least a week. But then I got another call from my friend, who told me that the first place winner had plagiarized his story. That meant my story was now in first place! Once again, he warned me not to tell anyone.
But then one night, while I was watching the news on TV, the commentator informed the viewing public that a certain famous venue had burnt down. I stared in utter shock, because that was where the awards ceremony was to have taken place! Did that mean I was also a murderer of buildings, and not just magazines?
It wouldn’t surprise me.
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