So there comes a point, when, after submitting and submitting you start to truly believe that those first few professional level sales were only a fluke. Or the magazine that bought them was just starting out so their standards were lower, or whatever.

Then comes two children and a lack of energy and time to continue writing. So you suspect that the end is near. But then things work out so that a famous workshop is nearby you, and you get up the courage to go and see how things work.

So you decide that you do want to start trying to write again. You set a very doable goal: one story (or chapter) per month. So far that's been fine.

January: Kiriko's pearl (the tanuki story)
February: The Noppera-bo Cries (the faceless ghost story)
March: For their souls dwell in a place of tomorrow (AI story)
April: Urashima Todd (Japanese rip van winkle story)

And so you feel kind of good. And then there's the fact that "Hafu" (robin hood in tokyo story) just passed the second round of readings over at Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine and that Strange Horizons is holding "The Noppera-bo Cries" past 30 days (average rejection time) and you can't help but start hoping.

So when the rejection comes, it hurts twice as bad. Why do I do this? Maybe I'm a latent sadomasochist. Who knows.