I feel I have come to a juncture in my life. For many years I have been a writer who has posted all his stories at the story site gayauthors.org (GA). In the past couple years, I got it in my head I could be a real writer and get my stuff published like a real author. If anything, it certainly got me to writing some serious shit.
Yesterday, I was thinking about how my life has gone and I had to admit my likelihood of becoming a published writer before my death is about as likely as living to the ripe age of 500. The evidence is quite plain. All you have to do is look at who is being published. I’d guess about 95% of newly published writers are people coming out of creative writing programs at colleges and universities, especially those that grant MFAs.
Where does that leave me?
Well, quite frankly, I’m still publishing short stories at GA by contributing to the anthologies, so it wouldn’t be unrealistic to go back to posting long stories. I could start with “Flight of the Dodo.” While I was publishing that, I could work on new long stories, medium length stories, and short stories.
I’ll have to think about this because this thought pattern could just be a result of a period of depression that I seem to be in at the moment. To think that I get depressed while taking an antidepressant, so much for modern medicine.