A few days ago I mentioned I was actually busy, that I’d found myself in “one of those rare instances when I’m working under a deadline.” Some folks wondered about that deadline business. Allow me to splain.

Twelve days ago (on Tuesday the 3rd) I noticed a post on Bluesky (which, by the way, is by far the most engaging and positive (and frequently very weird) social media platform I’ve ever encountered) stating that Uncanny Magazine had opened submissions for short fiction. Uncanny has been publishing science fiction and fantasy fiction for about a decade. The magazine itself and the fiction it’s published have won numerous awards. Uncanny has published short fiction and novellas by a LOT of the big hats in the SFF biz.

I don’t write science fiction or fantasy. I write detective/crime stuff. I’ve always read SFF, and I’ve occasionally banged out some ideas for SFF novels, but I’ve never followed through. So when I saw the post about open submissions, I said to myself, “Greg, old sock, why not give it a shot?”

The obvious response was, “I’ll tell you why not. First, you’ve never written SFF in your entire semi-wicked life. Second, you’ve got less than two weeks to come up with an idea and write a short story, which is another thing you’ve never done. Third, there are a million other things you actually WANT to do instead of sitting alone in a quiet room making shit up. It’s October, for fuck’s sake, and you’ll want to ride your bike and see people and go on long drives to look at autumn foliage. Fourth and finally, let me repeat that you’ll only have two weeks to write a story in a genre you’ve never written and it’s the best two weeks of autumn, you massive idiot.”

So I decided to write a story and submit it.

Which is exactly what I did.

Finished it last night, formatted it this morning, just submitted it moments ago. About 9500 words in eleven days. It doesn’t sound like a lot. Less than a thousand words a day. But that includes coming up with the idea, envisioning the story world, populating it with believable (I hope) characters, ensuring the plot holds together, arranging the scenes, and putting all those words in a row. I’ve never written an entire short story, nose to tail, in such a short period of time.

I have absolutely no idea if it’s any good. I mean, I was satisfied enough with the story that I submitted it, but Jesus suffering fuck, 12 days? And, of course, the fact that I’m satisfied with it doesn’t mean a damned thing. The folks who’ll send you the contract and cut the check, they’ve got to be satisfied…and who knows what they’ll do?

But THIS is the part of the writing gig I’m really very good at: letting go. Most writers I know tend to fret about the stories they’ve submitted. Me, once I submit a story for publication, I basically forget it…until I get an acceptance or a rejection. Out of sight, out of mind. Done and dusted.

Which may be good for my mental health, but is a terrible business practice. Because if a story gets rejected by one publisher, you may want to submit it to another. This actually almost happened to me last year. I’d submitted a story to Alfred Hitchcock’s magazine and immediately forgot about it. Well, I forgot about it until I was ready to submit another story to different magazine. Then I remembered, “Hey, dude, it’s been maybe 3-4 months and you haven’t heard about the other story; that ain’t right.” So I sent an email saying ‘Don’t want to make a fuss, but if you’re not going to accept the story, let me know so I can sell it elsewhere.’ The magazine responded with a contract. That story eventually won an Edgar award. Go figure publishers.

Anyway, the story is written. It’s been submitted. And I feel liberated. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go for a bike ride.