Grist (sic) for the Mill

[ecosophia]

Rejection slips are among the enduring features of any writer's life. In fact, I fielded one yesterday. It was from Grist, a glossy pseudoenvironmental rag that caters to the overprivileged, and it was in response to the story I submitted to their "cli-fi" contest back in March. 

Mind you, this came as less than no surprise. I discussed the contest, among other signposts in the strange landscape of thought we've entered in the last few years, in a post over on my blog.  My comments on it were, ahem, far from sympathetic, and the story I submitted to the contest -- "A Modest Contribution" -- was of a piece with that:  I set out to follow the rules of their contest to the letter, while flatly contradicting the spirit thereof. I was a little sorry to get a bland generic rejection slip instead of a scream of outrage, but then one can't be too picky in this business. 

Over on the blog, however, I heard from another reader who'd submitted something in the same spirit and also got a rejection slip.  It occurs to me to wonder aloud just how many readers were as unimpressed by Grist's display of overinflated entitlement as I was, and reacted to it in the same way, by writing a story. If there are enough of us, you know, it might be possible to produce a short book -- or even a not so short book! -- and get it into publication. (And I might be convinced to invite new stories along the same lines, for that matter; you can read Grist's bellowing orgy of virtue signaling disguised as a call for submissions here if you happen to need inspiration.) 

What say you, fellow writers?  Do we have enough stories, in the jargon of a vanished age, to pub an ish? 

Comments

Count Me In

[sothismedias]

Definitely count me! I had a lot of fun writing that story, so I look forward to submitting it when the time is right. Speaking of intersectionality, I had always wanted to write a scene in a deindustrial story that was set in a big city and where something happens at an intersection. I took it, and intersectionaltiy, very literally, to my mind at least. I was kind of sad that nobody yelled at me for writing about people getting pulled around in rickshaws by strong and industrious street kids, (or anything else I put in there for that matter). But enough spoilers, I'll await further details of submitting the story.

Thank you for bringing the Grist contest to our attention and for encouraging people to send in tales. I'm excited about the response here.

On punk, in the words of Crass:

"Yes that's right, punk is dead
It's just another cheap product for the consumers' head
Bubblegum rock on plastic transistors
Schoolboy sedition backed by big-time promoters
CBS promote the Clash
Ain't for revolution, it's just for cash
Punk became a fashion just like hippy used to be
Ain't got a thing to do with you or me
...
Do I need a business man to promote my angle?
Can I resist the carrots that fame and fortune dangle?
I see the velvet zippies in their bondage gear
The social elite with safety pins in their ear
I watch and understand that it don't mean a thing
The scorpions might attack, but the systems stole the sting
Punk is dead" -Crass, Punk Is Dead (written in 1978!)

Re: Count Me In

[deborah_bender]

Speaking of taking things literally, I took
"What kind of a world do you, a future ancestor, want to build? This is your opportunity to build it — on paper."
literally, and a story idea popped into my mind, but it would be as depressing to write as it would be to read, so I'm not going to. Anyone who gets the hint is welcome to it.