From the Desk of Elizabeth Cooper

I was going to post a short story I wrote that wasn’t quite up to snuff. It was an attempt to wed the bizarre lifestyle of a lawyer, no offense intended to lawyers, with the Lovecraftian mythos. Attempting to grasp at straws about how corporations, existing solely as concepts but still given person-hood, are not dissimilar from the uncaring idiot gods that Lovecraft wrote of.

It wasn’t good though. I wrote it and edited it and beat on its chest screaming “LIVE DAMMIT LIVE!” It didn’t work though. It sits, now, regulated to the folder on my computer where lost stories and ideas that haven’t gotten anywhere get to live and hang out. I hope that they’ll mildew there, maybe start to grow like a fungus before exploding and sending spores out to infect other creations. That would be sweet.

It didn’t go immediately to the “maybe-I’ll-touch-this-again-but-maybe-not” bin, I actually submitted it somewhere. I knew it was terrible. I also knew that, at its core, I’m on to something. C’mon; corporations as dumb idiot gods? The parts were there, just not coming together in a cohesive thing. That’s fine. But yes, I submitted it to a company that publishes Lovecraftian stuff. I was banking solely on the idea being enough, that they would see what it was supposed to be and tell me what I and my beta-readers had missed.

They didn’t. They did, however, pass, quite politely, and suggested a few places to shop it around at. I didn’t expect that. I expected, and felt I deserved, a vitriolic condemnation that I would birth this terrifying thing into the world. That I would let it flail about, half formed and terrible, and inflict itself upon others.

It was actually a purposeful thing; I need to toughen up on the rejections. And its getting a lot better. The only way to get better at it is through exposure therapy. The first few rejections I got would bring me low! I’d question every writing anything, etc etc. That whole wailing and beating of fists and gnashing of teeth. It was a good time. Not anymore. Now I look at it, ponder what they were saying, and move on.

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