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Slush Piles & Christmas Trees

Some say that getting published is a lot about being what somebody wants at that time.

This is a Christmas story to writers who think you are forever lost in the slush pile of unwanted manuscripts.

I hate the idea of cutting down a perfectly good tree at Christmas (and hate plastic more) but as I was hosting the family Christmas this year, I needed a tree to decorate.

I spotted a small She-Oak (maybe a Swamp Oak) in a weed-infested road-side culvert not far from home. I have watched that little tree slowly poking its way skyward for two months. My plan was to steal out in the dark of night, dig it up – roots and all – and take it home. I figured if I planted it in a pot, it would grow and serve us for years.

To my horror, the people in the adjoining property decided to tidy up their culvert and they chopped the little tree down, abandoning it with all the other weeds for the waste collection. Devastated, I dragged it back home, put it in a bucket of sand and water and wondered if it would survive the five days until Christmas.
To our delight it did, and with the pressies under it that little tree was suddenly tall and strong and beautiful. Perfect!
So to any writers out there, whose precious novel is languishing in a slush pile, you really do just have to be what someone wants at the time and you too may find yourself picked up, dragged out of the rest of the rubbish and given a chance to shine.
Posted on 5 Comments

Slush Piles & Christmas Trees

Some say that getting published is a lot about being what somebody wants at that time.

This is a Christmas story to writers who think you are forever lost in the slush pile of unwanted manuscripts.

I hate the idea of cutting down a perfectly good tree at Christmas (and hate plastic more) but as I was hosting the family Christmas this year, I needed a tree to decorate.

I spotted a small She-Oak (maybe a Swamp Oak) in a weed-infested road-side culvert not far from home. I have watched that little tree slowly poking its way skyward for two months. My plan was to steal out in the dark of night, dig it up – roots and all – and take it home. I figured if I planted it in a pot, it would grow and serve us for years.

To my horror, the people in the adjoining property decided to tidy up their culvert and they chopped the little tree down, abandoning it with all the other weeds for the waste collection. Devastated, I dragged it back home, put it in a bucket of sand and water and wondered if it would survive the five days until Christmas.
To our delight it did, and with the pressies under it that little tree was suddenly tall and strong and beautiful. Perfect!
So to any writers out there, whose precious novel is languishing in a slush pile, you really do just have to be what someone wants at the time and you too may find yourself picked up, dragged out of the rest of the rubbish and given a chance to shine.