Let’s try this “blog” thing.

Here we are at Correlated Contents.  After participating in the creation of two blogs for fictional characters, one on indefinite hiatus and the other still running to some degree, I have finally decided that if I want to establish a web presence I should at least have a blog of my own for realz.  Here at CorCon I will be writing entries about writing as a practice in general, I guess, and also the epic struggle to publish fiction in a crumbling economy.  I’ll also probably post, like, youtube links or something?  Is that what blogs are used for?  Whatever.

They say it takes an average of 100 rejections before any writer makes a sale.  This means that for every golden child who sells on the first try, some other schlub has to go through 200 rejections.  I was not fortunate enough to make a sale on my first try, but there’s still hope that I’m batting at the average.  I currently have a small stable of a dozen or so pieces of short fiction and the manuscript for a novel, Brutal.  Many of these things (including the novel) have been rejected at least once by a publication, giving me a current figure of 17.  83 to go, right?  Right.

To those curious, the background image is a collage of photos I took in the basement of the St. Louis Art Museum.  The menagerie of creatures depicted are statues and idols of Mesoamerican gods, and for some reason the best way to exhibit these is in tiny poorly lit rooms.  They were creepy as hell but also somewhat funny (they kind of look like Muppets, don’t they?) so I suppose to that extent they embody certain principles of my writing.

Would to God that all the Lords people were Prophets

And did those feet in ancient time.
Walk upon Englands mountains green:

And was the holy Lamb of God,
On Englands pleasant pastures seen!

And did the Countenance Divine,
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was

Jerusalem builded here,

Among these

dark Satanic Mills?

Bring me my Bow of burning gold;
Bring me my Arrows of desire:
Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my Chariot of fire!

I will not cease from Mental Fight,
Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand:

Till we have built Jerusalem,
In Englands green & pleasant Land