I’ve been named a finalist for the Robert Day Award for Fiction, from the noted literary magazine New Letters. The editors are currently considering which finalist short stories it will publish in the magazine.

The short story I submitted, A Day in the City, is one of the first I began writing when, in the 1990s, I felt I finally had my fiction legs under me. I always thought it was a strong, worthy story, and as an example of how kooky discovery is in this field, the story has been rejected by magazines 52 times over the years (despite receiving very strong comments from a number of top editors). Even now, while I feel this award has validated my feelings, the story still may not be selected for publication. And, until it is, I can’t show it here or anywhere else, since it must be virginal to be considered by magazines. Tough stuff, eh? And I’ve had many similar experiences with poems, manuscripts, songs, and screenplays. Fortunately, however, in the case of poems, many that have been rejected numerous times, have finally been selected for publication. Ahh!!!

As I’ve been watching the baseball playoff games this October, I’m reminded of the fortitude required of professional baseball players. The other night it was noted how one outfielder in the game, now 28, had played in more than 700 minor league games before being called up to the majors last month.

BTW, New Letters is ranked #37 on a highly-regarded list of the top lit magazines. The ratings are based on the number of their contributors from the previous year who are selected as winners of the coveted Pushcart Prize. As an example, Paris Review is ranked #1.