I am sure Lord Tennyson will forgive me for the butchering of his quote. And even if he doesn't, what's he gonna do about it?
Today I sent an Unsent Letter. I have more at the ready, but the guidelines say to wait for a response to the first one before sending more. Perhaps my convoluted correspondence will not be their comforting cup of tea. Or their bowl of chicken soup. Though in my not-quite-humble opinion, Val's writing has a certain edge that seems better-tailored to a niche in this market than to the uplifting, feel-good anthologies.
Oh, I can make my submissions fit the feel-good. But it's not an entirely comfortable process. Like squeezing myself into some skinny jeans and a bustier. Technically, I am wearing the clothes. But I can't quite catch my breath, and everyone can see my muffin-top. I am the farmer's daughter, barefoot in overalls, called in from pig-rasslin' to mingle with the silky-smooth, glossy-lipped, impeccably-coiffed debutantes. I'm Sandra Bullock as Gracie Hart in Miss Congeniality. Dana Goodman as Carrie Mae in The House Bunny. Donna Douglas as Elly May Clampett of the Beverly Hillbillies. My body of work is not so much upper crust as super crusty.
Like economically-priced beer, my writing is an acquired taste.