I had a lightning flash of an idea last weekend. It was the midnight of Sunday turning into Monday and I had wanted to go to sleep but suddenly there came into my brain a brilliant seed of an idea for a short story that I just had to sit down and write then and there.
So I did.
I hammered out a 3700 story about zombies. I don't usually like zombies. In fact, I hate zombies as a genre, but this idea seemed so good at the time I didn't want to lose the energy of the moment. When I was done, I reread it and I was pleased. It came out not-so-bad, if I do say so myself.
Over the next few days, I rewrote it, gave it to some friends for advice on improving it and rewrote it some more after I got said solicited advice. My friends said they liked it and well, if they liked it, I suppose some other people out there would like it as well.
At first I had wanted to self-publish the story on Amazon but something inside me said I should try submitting it to a certain magazine that I had had my eyes on for a while now. So I said to myself, why the heck not. Let's submit this story. If it gets accepted, hey nice, I'll have another published credit to my name (something I haven't had in a while) and yet another leaf in my laurel wreath. And if it's rejected, no probs, I'll just pub it on Amazon myself.
But I forgot it's the Christmas season. I don't think the magazine staff are going through the slushpile at the moment and even if it's just for the rejection I'll probably have to wait until next month the earliest to get a reply. Gahhh.
I hate waiting.