I sent out a story today, I haven't really sent out much in the past couple of years. It's easy to get bogged down in the defeats, but I don't think that was really the case. I used to send stuff out all the time in undergrad, it was kind of a weird formula of the worse I was as a writer the more I sent out work. As I got better, the less and less I sent out. While, the magazines never beat down my door, the rejections were generally getting better and better. You're not so terrible. Could be worse. Hang in there, sport (with a little characicature of a cat).

I sent out to the Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction. I usually don't send out to sci-fi mags because a) I'm not a science fiction writer and b) I don't like science fiction writers. To me, most sci-fi writers are talentless hacks who like to pat themselves on the back. "Don't you see... the robots have three laws. Three, I say, I say." Pat, pat, pat. More concerned with the concept than the content. But this was a weird little story that just didn't have much of a shot elsewhere.

What was it?

Oh, just your average grave robber who dug up prom queens to build a 4 dimensional lover. Yeah, probably not for The New Yorker.