This morning on the bus into work, my brain got the great idea of submitting my short story to the New Yorker by literally saying “What if you do this what if”. Its an odd concept since the chances of getting your story published there is 1 in 40k.
Worse if you don’t know anyone at the office.
Seems I do not actually give a fuck about odds.
It goes off tonight.
Might try scifi mags next. I mean, its still SciFi if they hallucinate they are time traveling, right?