I came across a small, small...small publication called Inwood Indiana, in July 2014. A brief tour through the site convinced me I wanted to be published there.
Many writers chasing this dream will tell you they strive to write great stories for great publications. They will tell you they spend hours editing their piece into dust. Their hands are fleshy and raw from hammering away at an inquiry letter. They submit, and submit, and submit until their so goddamn threadbare you could poke a pencil through their heart.
Hey, this writing business is brutal. Think about it like this - if you're a doctor, you go to school, you get lucky, you do well, you become a doctor. Now imagine standing in front of panel after panel trying to get certification to practice. Some say your work is superficial and uninspired. Some say your specialty is too prevalent, while others insist it's too obscure. No one is interested in certifying you to practice, much less allow you to open shop and start your own business. What, you think you can just work at something you love and get paid? Sorry fancy pants, you gotta get a job like the rest of us and practice medicine in private and often unrewarded, like some pervert with his hand down his pants at the park.
Meanwhile, your friends and family nod and sigh when you bring up medicine. People at parties smile politely when you tell them you're a doctor. You meet a lawyer at a charity gala and he nods without smiling and suggests you get a real job.
Yep, being an "author" is kick ass. But when you find a publication you like, and you write a story specifically for them, and they accept it...
It reminds you of that lonely little boy you knew so many, many years ago. In between breaths, he pressed his blue pen furiously against the empty pages of a dogeared notebook. And with every hopeless stroke, he commanded the gods.