This story began in my car. Well, it technically began with an anthology. But not the anthology you’ll read it in.
You know what? Let’s back up a bit. There’s a story behind every story, and today, I’d like to tell you the tale of my latest.
It’s Called “If Pages Could Blush”
…And it appears in Unidentified Funny Objects 9, an anthology edited by Alex Shvartsman. We’ve also got stories from Jane Espenson, Lavie Tidhar, and Simon R. Green, amongst many other talented writers.
My story takes place in a library where the books are sentient. One of those books—the infamous Necronomicon—escapes from its section, no doubt for nefarious purposes. Now it’s up to Augustus Fluff, bumbling librarian’s apprentice, to apprehend the escapee.
How It Started
As I mentioned, “If Pages Could Blush” (we’ll call it “IPCB” from now on) began with an anthology. The theme? Send a story about books.
I had a few ideas. I drafted a tale where someone procures a forbidden book from an underground bookshop, then another about a book that transports readers to an alternate world (literally). After my usual trial-and-error cycle, I settled on a concept I liked: A book gets loose in a library.
The First Draft
Here’s the part about writing the story in my car. In the fall of 2021, during my work commute (shoutout to Special Olympics New York), I decided I’d do something besides listen to Limited Resources.
In the writer world, you hear legends of people who pen 4 or 5k words per day using the magic of dictation. Being the copycat that I am, I tried the same, starting with my escaped-book story. Here’s the first line of my first draft:
“A book was missing.”
Not the most riveting stuff. Also, according to my Google Doc, I began writing on October 14 at 8:35am, meaning I was late to work. For shame!
Things got better from there. My main character was a librarian who owned his own set of sentient books. When one escaped, he went on a quest to find it. However, as I wrote, the librarian became increasingly incompetent. His adventure took on a farcical tone because he was so flustered about the whole situation. So, I morphed my MC into an apprentice rather than a master.
Subsequent Drafts
In my next version, the Master Librarian established the rules of the world in the first scene (yes, she’s known as “The Master Librarian,” even in the final draft). My new main character, the Master Librarian’s bumbling apprentice, was named Augustus Gulp. I liked the name because it was contradictory: “Augustus” is an emperor’s title, yet “gulp” is the sound you make when you’re in trouble.
However, my writers’ group caught something. The name sounded awfully similar to Augustus Gloop, that gluttonous ginger kid from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Not a bad association, but not one I wanted, either. After a few days’ deliberation, “Gulp” became “Fluff.”
At the suggestion of both Sara and my writers’ group, I cut the opening scene with the Master Librarian, preferring instead to launch directly into the story. I tightened said story, too, adding references to my favorite books and clarifying the trail of clues leading to the denouement. The deadline for the anthology was January 31, 2022. I worked diligently to hit it.
(When I say “diligently,” I mean squeezing it in between games of Magic: The Gathering and reading sessions of Shakespeare’s Othello, which Goodreads tells me I was reading at the time. Justice for Desdemona.)
Anywho, eventually I finished “If Pages Could Blush”—or at least finished it enough to submit.
The Anthology
I use a handy little site called Duotrope to track my writing submissions. That’s how I know that, on January 31, 2022, I sent “IPCB” to the anthology. On March 24, I received a response that can be summed up in two words:
No thanks.
That one hurt. I’m used to rejections, as evidenced by my 115 submissions since 2013, with a rejection percentage of 85.8. Like baseball, a high-failure rate is part of the game.
Yet this proverbial strikeout stung more than the others. Why? Because I’d written the piece specifically for the market. It was like crafting the perfect gift for your Secret Santa, then watching them set it ablaze with a flamethrower.
Okay, that was melodramatic. But still, it was a bummer.
Furthermore, I thought “If Pages Could Blush” was pretty darn good. The concept was fun, the mystery felt satisfying to me, and early readers seemed to find it amusing. So what was wrong with it?
Nothing? Everything? The answers in art are never that clear.
A Brief Aside
You may not know this, but I once volunteered as a first reader for Grimdark Magazine. In that role, I read stuff.
…And then offered thoughtful feedback to the editor. But really, the position was well-named, because it was all reading.
Most of what I read was strong, yet little of it made the final mag. Why? Limited space in the issue. Topic too similar to previous stories. Elements that didn’t align with our theme.
In other words, there’s more to publishing than quality. Not to say quality isn’t the most important factor in any artistic endeavor—it’s just that those other, less visible details matter, too.
This is a long way of rationalizing my rejection. It’s how I convinced myself to continue submitting.
The Next Few Months
In May, I sent “IPCB” to three pro-paying markets. I received a one-day rejection, a 38-day rejection, and a shortlisting. Feeling encouraged by that last one, I submitted my story for the fifth (and, as it would turn out) final time.
I’d never read Unidentified Funny Objects before, but I’d heard of it. It’s one of the few pro-paying humorous fantasy/sci-fi markets around (professional payment being defined by Duotrope as “5 US cents per word and up”). UFO has also published stories by two of my literary heroes, Neil Gaiman and George R.R. Martin, so that was a definite draw.
Three days later, I received notice that “IPCB” was being held for final consideration. And, on September 24, 2022, my story was accepted.
Provisionally. (Dun dun DUN!)
The Edits
Alex Shvartsman, the aforementioned series editor, responded with the news. He said he’d be happy to accept my story, provided we agree on some changes.
To preserve editorial integrity, I won’t disclose those changes. (I’m new to this, so I’m honestly unsure if sharing would be considered tacky.) Suffice it to say there were four suggestions, and they all improved the piece.
After those edits came a round of copy edits, then signing the contract in blood (JK, it was a BIC). Then, finally, “If Pages Could Blush” became an official inclusion in UFO9. You can read a copy yourself.
The Takeaways
Prior to this, I’d only ever sold a single short story; those of you who’ve read Monsters at Dusk will remember it. It’s called “Thespian: A Tale of Tragedy and Redemption in Three Acts,” and Allegory gave me a cool $20 for it.
I don’t write for money. Yet still, someday I want to make a living off this writing thing. And earning 20 times what I had before? That felt pretty good.
Go Catch Your Copy Before It Escapes!
If you’ve made it this far, then why not read the story this entire story’s been about? Go grab your copy of Unidentified Funny Objects 9 on Kindle or paperback! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
Kyle A. Massa is a comic fantasy author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife, their daughter, and three wild animals. His published works include three books and several short stories. When he’s not writing, he enjoys reading, running, and drinking coffee.
