This week, I thought I’d give you all a wee bit of insight into a part of our process. It is regarding acceptance and rejection letters.
Now just like being on the hunt for an interested person of the opposite sex, it is easier to be accepted than rejected. Not many of my rejections had ever been written, normally a ‘Fuck off’ would suffice. In the same way none of my acceptances ever produced a letter, just a very grateful me and a lady that I would later judge. (OK, I may have written some poetry, but it was the eighties and I had hair.)
It’s easy to say yes to a submission but we wouldn’t be doing anyone any justice if we did this as a given. So we try to keep the site’s integrity.
In my quest to find something interesting to say in Hugh’s absence this week I did a quick Google search for the significance of the number 179.
As you can imagine the results were thrilling.
I can confirm 179 is a prime number – an Eisenstein Prime no less as it is indivisible even by complex Gaussian integers, and Chen Prime because it is 2 less than the next prime number.
Hello there folks! Here we are at week 169.
I also see that we are close to 183 000 hits. C’moan guys, it will be brilliant to get to 200 000 as quick as possible. We could get there quicker if any of us had a kitten doing cute things or a fucking idiot singing ‘My Boy Lollipop’ at a graveside’ (Check it out on Facetube – It really does make me proud to be Scottish!
…Sarcasm is so under used these days!!!)
I think anyone who has read any of these posts will be aware that I don’t have much regard for romantic stories.
Tobias sat down, put his cup of cinnamon coffee beside the keyboard and stretched out his fingers. He moved his neck from side to side making a cracking sound and spoke to himself, but only in his own head.
“Alright, here we go!”
The first couple of sentences were clunky, it took him a while to get into the rhythm. Very much like the first couple of steps of jogging. Not that he ever jogged, whom is he fooling? But the analogy could stay. For now. Maybe he’ll come back to it, like a revisit of- No. No more analogies. On with the story. A setting and a problem. What did he want to say? Ah, he remembered. His girlfriend told him about a tourist guide who literally got into a fist fight with another tourist guide. Oh, but he didn’t like that last sentence. Why didn’t he just write ‘a story about two tourist guides who fought’? Well, it was necessary to part the two since one of them initiated the fight, that’s why.
”You see this meadow, boy? It was a swamp before we moved here. One of the conditions for buying the mansion and the adjoining land was that I paid to have it fixed and also the beach. You enjoy the beach, right boy? The restoration of the pier as well. How do the villagers repay us? They let their dogs shit on the meadow. They shit on the meadow, boy. They want me to pick it up… Look out the window! There’s Andersson with his ugly daughter.” Erik stopped and rolled down the car window. “HEY! Andersson! Pick up after your shitty daughter’s shitty dog! Or I will empty my septic tank all over your ugly house. I’d do you that favour. The shit glaze would probably raise the property value.”