Burning ash and fertile grounds; reflections on quitting
and more
I must admit, that as usual, I’ve been procrastinating on this letter even though I know exactly what I want to write. A part of it is the image of it (“what will people think”) and another is the phrasing. So often, I’m a maelstorm of emotion that words feel like cages and I have to find the right ones to fit myself into. In lapse of tradition, today, let’s talk about ending.
News
I do have some news for you.
“A Song To Rival Gods”, which is a sapphic flash reimagining of Cilapadikaram, will be published in the volume 5 of If There’s Anyone Left anthology. I’m incredibly proud of this story; it is fiercely queer and Tamil.
I’m also scaling back on social media, so if you want to catch me, the newsletter is going to be your definite place
Now, onwards.
Writing
I’ve finally completed a draft of my novel; my first child, however imperfect, is born. It can be said to be about courts and intrigue, knives that spill blood and families torn but ultimately, its a book about selfish rebellions.
I write my first drafts in skeletons and bones, arranging and rearranging and obsessing over until they fit, until they are whole. Now, I must begin the work of stitching sinew and building muscle around the bones, stimulate the bloodflow and nerve-endings. Somewhere, between this and adding skin, the book will take its first breath and if I am really lucky, it will begin to sing. So the work is not done yet but I’m exhausted; the labor is of two years and I need time to rest, so I can tend to my child in peace. (It is part of the reason I’m taking a decision I’ll go into later)
I’m also fiddling with a few short story, mythical bursts of inspiration about a subjective kind of story and forgotten women in the edges. I’m writing.
Quitting short fiction
I have thought long and hard about writing this email and how it will look like for me. But I do think I owe myself this and you deserve to know too. TLDR: I’m quitting pursuing publication in short fiction, at least for now.
It is highly possible that you know me only through my short fiction work, unless you are like three people who’ve read my novel, or my twitter threads. Me quitting short fiction is not news by any standard but there’s a survivorship bias in publishing; you only hear the “I made it” stories, not the I fell down on the road, prone and bleeding and I couldn’t get up again, couldn’t do myself the disservice of lifting the body, only to be shot back down. So, I think its important to tell this story, to set in word that yes, I am quitting because frankly, I’m not strong enough for being “good but not good enough.”
I don’t take this decision lightly and while it is wholly my own, I would be lying to say if the short fiction landscape didn’t have something to do with it. See, I’ve been writing fiction for three years, two years of pursuing professional publication, one year of publishing a couple of stories and one year of trying to convince anyone else that me and my work are worth publishing. I’ve failed.
Lately, I’ve been drowning in rejections. This again, is not worthy of note; any working writer is neck deep in rejections. However, the kind of rejections I’ve been receiving for every story I send out has been discouraging to say the least; the writing’s great, the story is compelling, but you don’t fit what we want to publish.
I’m immensely grateful for all the editors who took the time to send out personal rejections; they are always under piles of submissions and as someone who slush reads myself, I know how difficult it can be. However, it has shown me that, conclusively, there’s little to no space for what I write. It is a disheartening realization, to see that your writing is simply not enough, because there’s no space for your work. But it leaves us at an impasse as I have no intention of changing what or how I write; I don’t write for markets or audiences but only for myself, because I simply must write, there’s no other way to survive.
However, thankfully, I do not need to publish my short stories to live. Before anyone tells me off, I have tried, truly tried to get my work out there; each time, however close we came, me and my work, we’ve been found wanting. And while the writer in me craves to keep going, to continue this punishment to its inevitable end, as a person, I cannot continue this self flagellation any longer. So, as of now, I’m quitting short fiction publishing. I contemplated waiting until all of my rejections came home to say this (I still have 20 odd out there) but I need to let go.
Its been a good ride, I’ve had a couple of good stories out and I’m immensely grateful for everyone who engaged with my work. But for now, I don’t see a space for me in the short fiction landscape, and I have no way of carving one out. I simply must admit I’m not what they seek, for whatever reason and find my own path. I may or may not come back but today, I have to give myself the permission to walk away completely without turning back.
What does this mean?
Thankfully, it doesn’t matter a lot in the short or long run. All the stories I’ve been contracted to (exactly 1 at the moment and 1 more that may or may not happen) will come out on their set date. This simply means I’m going to stop submitting. I’m still going to keep writing my short stories, respond to solicitation requests, and most importantly, focus on revising my novel.
My novel is my most cherished child and she requires everything I can give her. If I must burn down these fruitless fields to make fertile ground for her, so be it. I apologize to everyone I’m letting down by this decision; so many of you believed me in me but in the end, I did not have the stomach or skin for it. I do not like the person submissions make me, jealous, angry and forever incompetent. I want to revel in my words, work with them without feeling the pressure to publish/submit, be less anxious about my emails and stop dissolving into tears every time a rejection that is full of regretful praise lands in my inbox. I want myself back.
Rukman Recs
Now, that we got all of that out of the way, let’s talk about what i’ve been reading;
Novel
A Sorceress Comes To Call - Certainly an interesting novel, love the range of work that Ursula Vernon/T Kingfisher outputs.
Short Fiction
Agni by Nibedita Sen - Nibedita Sen’s work was what drew me to weird horror and it only feels right to end this journey by recommending her latest triumph; Agni. It is such a sharp story of reclamation of power, gorgeously told.
Watching
House of The Dragon - I’m finally catching up and I’m two episodes through; utterly enraptured by the intensity.
With that, I leave you with the wisdom I received several years ago, when I needed it most; its always okay to quit when something starts eating away at you.
With warmth,
Rukman Ragas