A. P. Howell

Obviously, 2020 was a dumpster fire of monstrous fucking proportions. None of it was out of the blue (with the possible exception of the Galactic Federation who apparently want nothing to do with us so don't change the equation anyway), just the logical---if sometimes cartoonish---extension of existing institutions, systems, beliefs, and actors. That is why, though I am trying to see January 1 (and, in the US, the 20th) as an encouraging fresh start, I have a difficult time fully embracing an optimistic outlook.

Instead, I'm looking at my year writing-wise, and I'm reasonably pleased.

• Made my first pro sale
• Made two more pro sales, proving it wasn't just a fluke
• Saw my first story* published
• Joined Codex
• Joined SFWA
• Wrote words, many of which were part of discrete, finished stories
• Had a story solicited (but, sadly, not published)
• Sent a query out for a thing that could be a lot of fun
• Received fan mail
• Had stories reviewed
• Thrilled by a number of TOC buddies

Short story status:

• Rejections: 88
• Currently out: 14
• Acceptances: 6
• Accepted but mag folded before publication: 2
• Published: 7

(Dammit, I just noticed the 88 and 14. Nazis are, apparently, even invading my submission spreadsheet. Well, add a novel rejection and the query thing, and then you get 89 and 15.)

Next year's writing goals:

• A novel
• A novella
• Finish the story I'm working on right now
• Maybe finish a couple that I set aside
• Maybe tear out the last third of the novel and fix it
• Write a few new short stories
• Do the project that's at the query stage if it moves beyond that; cry if it doesn't

The bullet points are super vague, but I have some solidish ideas about them. (Admittedly, I'm hazy on what might end up as a novel versus a novella---I don't have the trick of reliably gauging length---but I at least have a general idea about one long project to start.) So we'll see where that goes. Here's hoping the writing in 2021 goes well, and that the year is less of a dumpster fire than this one.


* First story under this name.

It is thematically unfortunate that Gerald Gardner and the Rational Dress Society did not overlap in a more felicitous manner.

My frustration with this fact is, perhaps, exaggerated as part of a coping mechanism for *gestures vaguely at COVID-19, white supremacists, state violence, etc.*

October was a good month. Stories were accepted for publication next year in Eighteen (XVIII) and Corvid Queen. I also had stories make it to the second round in the slush piles of some well-regarded places, so even if none of those pan out it still makes me feel like I'm not totally wasting my time (or the editors'). I meant to be more consistent about Inktober, but I'm glad I played around with the art pens at least a bit.

November was a month of rejections, which was neither surprising nor demoralizing (see "second round" above). I signed up to do NaNoWriMo--as a rebel, with a list of short stories I wanted to finish or at least make progress on. I have...not finished any of them, and worked on only two. (I edged past 10% of the 50K NaNo goal, which was not my personal goal, but still. Not terribly impressive output.) So much for the helpfulness of self-imposed deadlines. It was also a heavy day job month and I'm pondering ways to integrate writing time into my new schedule.

I've done a few micro pieces (one is here, others are subbed or queued to go out). Way back when, I did flash, but never this short. Twitter has rewired our brains, apparently. In any case, I'm pleased that while my output has crated at least a subset of the words I've written on some days are discrete Things that I can declare Done.

I've only done a few hundred words, not counting the freewriting to get some ideas sorted, but it feels good to be doing something unrelated to editing-turned-slog.