Jan 12, 2011 03:55
I honestly don't write a lot of fan fiction. Maybe one a year or so. One a year being defined as "one complete story, no matter how bloody long it takes." Small six-paragraph derps don't count, they're just goofing off when sudden bouts of inspiration hit.
To give you an idea as to the length of fan-fiction that I write, I'm 3/4 of the way through this year's, and I'm told it's at 30,000 words. Of fan fiction. Nothing but original characters. Of fan fiction. Thirty. Thousand. Words. For Warhammer 40,000.
A part of me wants to tilt my head back and shoot foam out my mouth at the ceiling over this, and I don't know why.
Ahem. Anyway. Where was I?
In May of 2011, open submissions start for Black Library. Where you can submit your drivel work in hopes that you can gain a contract. Or just have a short story published. I'm being pushed to submit my current work. All it means is that I'd have to finish what I have, separate it out into proper chapters, rewrite it, add 60,000 words, learn Latin, write a summary, write a chapter-by-chapter synopsis, submit those last two along with the first three chapters, and wait eight weeks to see if I get a response or not. In May.
Easy, right?
Pardon me while I curl into a ball and begin sobbing very, very, very loudly until somebody pumps me full of anti-anxiety medication. Kay? Kay.