Like sending your child off to the first day of school with a lottery ticket stapled to her chest

Oh my. I sent Bowling Ball off to an open-submissions call this week. On the one hand, I’m very excited. On the other hand, I’m well aware of how much of a cattle-call an open submissions is. Editors will be swamped with manuscripts. Your book’s chance of catching someone’s eye depends a lot on luck, how good you are at writing blurbs/synopses/cover-letters (in my case, probably not very), and just how undercaffeinated/overstresed/compatible-with-your-aesthetic that particular editor happens to be on that given day.

So yes. Rather like sending a child off for their first day of school, with a lottery ticket, and telling her “Good luck, kid. I hope you manage to find your way to class, have a good day, and get home again.”

Let’s hope Bowling Ball is clever and lucky.

2 comments on “Like sending your child off to the first day of school with a lottery ticket stapled to her chest

    • Shell Peters says:

      It is a muddled metaphor, I agree. 🙂 In my mind, I’ve spent a great deal of time nurturing and working on the story, polishing it as best as I can. Now I’ve just sent it out on its own to try and make its way in the world, with no idea if I’ll ever hear from it again (or at least from that particular effort). So to me, it’s like carefully raising a baby, only to send her off on her first day of school with a lottery-ticket instead of a bus pass, and hoping she makes it to school and back. A combination of care, anxiety, and recklessness.

      Thanks for commenting, and sorry for the delay in response; your comment was trapped in the spam filter.

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