It's a flash fiction piece called "City of Whispers and Night", and it's a little thing I wrote inspired by a picture I found on Tumblr:

Actually, I think it was Verse Kraken's Tumblr (Verse Kraken is another lit mag that I'd like to submit to someday. It's pretty awesome.).

So first and foremost, I'd like to thank Verse Kraken for that, because HOLY WOW MY FIRST PUBLICATION. THANKYOUTHANKYOU. YOU'RE AMAZING.

Second, I had The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern on my mind as I was writing. It's a completely amazing book, btw, so go read it. But anyway, that feeling of magic and possibility was just itching to be expressed.

Thank you, Erin Morgenstern, for being an inspirational genius.

Now, where is this magazine that has agreed to publish me?

Brouhaha Magazine.

I scrolled through their pieces and was pretty mind-blown - I'm not sure if you all know this, but there's a network (an underground almost) of genius, unrecognized writers on Tumblr. Particularly poets. And there were some darn brilliant beautiful words in that mag, wouldn't you know.

I write flash fictions as a little exercise every now and then, and the image just caught my fancy and I went with it. The piece had been sitting for a while when I decided to submit.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think they would accept it.

My work is set to appear on Monday, September 23 - I'll post a link when it's up!

Ahhh! It's happening!

*please excuse me while I freak out some more*

EDIT: And this, just after that horribly depressing post about being too young to do anything. Brouhaha Magazine, you have no idea what you have just done for me. Thank you.

EDIT #2: Here it is! http://brouhahamagazine.tumblr.com/post/62070974626/city-of-whispers-and-night
Read More
You all must be wondering. (Or maybe I'm flattering myself and you really don't care, but you are terribly bored, so you've come to this blog of mine to try and fix that. Either way, you're reading. Heh.)


Short answer: I'm submitting it to a competition in the hopes that it might win stuff, so obviously it can't be up on the nets while I do that.

Long answer: For the next four months or so, I'll be intensively editing the first fourteen-ish (seven actually, since I cut them in half for Figment) chapters to submit the excerpt along with a synopsis of the book to the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards (http://artandwriting.org/), a national scholarship-type-thingy that has a novel division and would look pretty darn good on my college application if I won something.

I'm not entirely sure about the specifics, but I'm pretty sure national winners of the novel contest get a chance to intern at Scholastic and possibly publish their novel.

I know that one of the winners, Anna Waggener, published her novel Grim as a result. (I'm planning to go read it sometime.)

Which means that I can't have it already up somewhere because... possible publication. With a traditional publishing house.

I've been thinking a lot about this, and I feel that it's worth it, even if I do lose a lot of readers on Figment. This is one of those rare instances where a traditional publishing house will even consider a thirteen-year-old's work.

(Such are the pains of being young.)

There's your answer.

Extension of long answer (the rambling part): To be completely honest with you all - sometimes I really hate being young.

Many of my Fig-friends are at least three years older than I am, so when we talk, I'm often struck by how much I cannot relate to them.

It makes me sad.

There's a lot of constraints that come with being thirteen, I think. Most days it feels like I'm standing on the cusp of something really amazing that I know nothing about. That something must be life. And while I write to try and suppress my fears, I feel so uncertain. I'm so excited for when I'm older, for when people will take me seriously. For the time when my age won't kill my chances at achieving some of my goals. For the time when I'll think I know something about the world and I'll really know it.

But for now, there's thirteen-year-old me to think about.

There are days - so many days - when I just have to concentrate, because everything is so overwhelming. I love writing, of that I'm certain. But there are days when I can't help thinking that all these words will never get me anywhere, and that's just plain scary. I want so badly to not be terrible at writing. I want so badly to write a story that is important to people.

However, thirteen-year-olds aren't supposed to know anything of importance.

Perhaps I'm just being naive. Perhaps it really does get better as time goes on. Perhaps I do have a scrap of talent in me.

Right now, the world tells me, you're just too young. Right now you should concentrate on your grades and extracurriculars like a good girl and leave the word-writing to the brilliant ones. So I try. And I fail. There's always been a writing space in my mind and it won't just go away. But so many people are telling me I'm not ready.

They're probably right.

But what the heck, if Stephenie Meyer can get published, then one more horrible writer unleashed on the world won't hurt that much.

Will it?

And even then.

They tell me I'll keep getting better.

(Good gracious, by next year it looks like I'll have a full-fledged case of senioritis. As a freshman in high school. I'm going to be unbearable to be around. -_-)

PS: I would like to extend a heartfelt thank-you and apology to all of my wonderful, amazing, fabulous Figment readers. Your support has had me over the moon lately, and it's entirely my fault for not letting you all know sooner. Please know that it's nothing against any of you. Also, feel free to leave angry comments on either this post or my Figment wall, and I'll respond as best I can :(
Read More
Next PostNewer Posts Previous PostOlder Posts Home