Amusing

So a while ago I wrote two episodes in a semi-con­tin­u­ing series on ficlets, and tonight I wrote the third. The sto­ry is far from over — in fact, in all can­dor, I have no idea where it’ll wind up — but it’s been fun to write it so far.

Here it is, to date.

Jenny, who is a dog

Part 1

Jen­ny, who is a dog, came into the liv­ing room, sat down on the floor, and spoke. “What supper?” she said, tail thump­ing on the hardwood.

I stared at her. “Beg pardon?” I was shocked enough that I actu­al­ly respond­ed. To a dog. You see the state of mind I was in?

“Supper. Food. What?”

“Uh – ” I’d been mak­ing my own dog food, these days. Jen­ny was old, and store-brand food wasn’t doing her any favours. “Liver and rice, for you,” I said. “I think piz­za for me.”

“Good. Liv­er good,” she said, and trot­ted off to the din­ing room.
Con­tin­ue read­ing “Jen­ny, who is a dog” →

So I got this email just now:

By the time you read this, your man­u­scripts will have already been rejected.

There’s no sense in ask­ing me why or what you could have done dif­fer­ent­ly, because I’ve already moved on to oth­er stories.

It was­n’t you. It was me. I — Awww, who’m I kid­ding… it was part­ly you. You did­n’t make me feel like you were real­ly inter­est­ed in mak­ing this rela­tion­ship work. I did­n’t feel any sparks between us. You did­n’t make me laugh.

This sto­ry was­n’t a match made in heav­en, but the next one may be. Sub­mit again. If you don’t, you’ll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomor­row. But soon. And for the rest of your life.

Sin­cere­ly,

On the Brighter Side [the mag­a­zine I sub­mit­ted to –Ed.]

PS: I’m keep­ing the ring. 

I like when I get amus­ing rejec­tion let­ters*. But noth­ing has yet topped being called “Ms. Johan­neson” by the now-defunct scifi.com.

____

* By which I mean, if I must be reject­ed, I pre­fer to be reject­ed by some­one with a sense of humour. (Though I must say that con­struc­tive crit­i­cism trumps laughs.)