Red Unicorns

For the past several hours, I’ve been pacing and fidgeting around my computer, wondering if ten minutes is too short a time to wait before checking my email again. I went back on forth on the issue, and eventually decided that only waiting five minutes was probably fine. I’m pretty sure I started checking it every three minutes.

Last year, a call for submissions to an anthology went out to the alumni of Superstars Writing Seminars. I was an alum, but I hadn’t been keeping up with the others much over the past couple years, and I had my hands full with my own projects and living in a new country. I didn’t submit.

That anthology had one driving theme and one basic requirement: purple unicorns. While a fantasy buff, I hadn’t developed much of an interest in unicorns since I cracked open my first fantasy novel. I didn’t think I had a unicorn story in me.

Unicorns, man. Unicorns.

Even so, I watched the proceedings with interest. The anthology, called One Horn to Rule Them All: A Purple Unicorn Anthology, was released in August of last year by WordFire Press. It was well-received, and sales exceeded expectations. The stories were strong, the artwork (by the talented James A. Owen) excellent.

Its publication wasn’t like that of any other anthology, at least not for me. Many of the authors in that anthology were people that I had met and knew, and because of that, I was buoyed by their infectious joy. Even though I wasn’t a part of the anthology, I couldn’t help but feed off of the enthusiasm and excitement of those who were.

I don’t often feel regret, but at that time, I felt more than a bit. I wanted in, but I had missed my window.

At least, that’s what I thought.

A few months ago, another call went out, this time for Game of Horns: A Red Unicorn Anthology. I still didn’t have any unicorn stories in me burning to get out, but I decided that could be an advantage: I would write a unicorn story that wasn’t your average unicorn story. It wouldn’t be laden with castles or forests or young Tom Cruises in scalemail.

Thus was born “Scrapyard Paradise,” a post-apocalyptic alien invasion unicorn story. I can’t be 100% sure, but it might be the first of its kind.

I wrote it, polished it (with the help of my brutal, bloodthirsty comrades, the Tokyo Writers Workshop, as well as my parents — voracious readers, both of them), and sent it off. I also tried to forget about it while I waited, but that didn’t work out so well.

Finally, yesterday, the editor began to send out notifications in waves. I waited and waited and waited. No email.

Then she announced the table of contents for the anthology. “Scrapyard Paradise” was there. I checked and saw the email she had sent, confirming it. I was in.

There was dancing, and it may or may not have involved the Running Man.

I will probably share more about this later, but for now, please excuse me while I go watch Tim Curry in a devil suit.

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