A writer should never give up hope. After all, that's what's supposed to keep a writer going during the interminable waits between handing our precious babies wrapped in manila envelopes to indifferent postal workers and receiving a slim envelope (usually a rejection) in return.
I'm forced to admit, however, that I was just about to give up on that copy of "My Brother's Own Words" that I'd sent out to CICADA magazine. I'd sent it out, when? In September? Yes, in September! After more than four months of silence, I assumed it must have gotten lost in the mail, and was lining some lucky canary's birdcage, or giving a drunken hobo some semblance of a blanket for the cold winter night.
But no! It arrived safely, and was squished beneath a giant pile of other (hopefully lesser, or at least lesser than mine - they pay up to 25 cents a word!) stories sent by other hopeful writers. Today I received a yellow postcard in the mail from CICADA, and while my first thought was, They rejected me with a postcard (!), it was actually a notice saying they've received it (meaning, they know it exists now after clearing away the rubbish, er, other stories, lying on top of it. So they're going to be reading it soon, and that means they'll be giving me a response.
Please please please plllllllllleeeeeeease be an acceptance!
By the way, once I get off my lazy butt, I'm going to send "Desert Muse" to Realms of Fantasy. I finally received a free copy from them, and I think the magazine is right for "Muse".