So the iPhone was released today and another contender for the ultimate digital reading device enters the Australian market.
What? No one said anything about the iPhone as a digital reading device (or eBook reader if you want to get cute).
Actually, in places where the iPhone has already been available for up to twelve months, a lot of speculation has come out of the kind of people who speculate about such things.
Following on from the previous post, a new development.
With some amazement I write again to announce that the University, in its wisdom, having let LiNQ almost expire, has now decided that it [should] try to resuscitate the journal. So there will be at least one more issue
My previous rant still stands, by the way, but at least the life support system is still hanging on for that bit longer.
I’ll watch the next few months with some interest.
This message arrived in my inbox the other day.
With deep regret I’m writing to say there will be no 2008 issue of LiNQ. The general editor has unable to gain funding, and the University has not provided staff support or other assistance. We are therefore unable to produce any further issues of the journal.
With LiNQ now confined to memory, Queensland has lost yet another literary publication and short story publisher. It’s telling that, although potential submitters for the 2008 edition have been advised of the closure, the web site remains static.
I should mention at this point that I’ve had it up to here with “the death of the novel”. Novels are doing just fine, last time I looked. You want to see the death of a literary form? Check out the short story. No one’s bemoaning its death — it’s been on life support so long most people have forgotten about it. And the power to the life support system is gradually draining away.
Does it have to be this way? Of course not!
After a few mad last-minute tweaks, the new novel is now dispatched for competition. I would have liked to get an appraisal (and the associated editorial raking over hot coals) before doing this, but you never know when you might fluke a win.
This brings me to the point of this post. Competitions are strange beasts. As I writer I often find myself busting my arse to complete a work for the deadline only to watch the piece (and the entry fee) sail off into the sunset never to be heard from again.
For me, competitions are purely a shot in the dark on the off chance that you might have written a freaking masterpiece without realising it.
While I’ve had my successes (and I’m in no way complaining about them), I don’t consider myself a “lucky” writer. I’ve been shortlisted, runner-upped, and notably mentioned, but nothing I’ve ever written has actually taken out an award. When I submit a manuscript for competition, the most I ever hope to achieve is making it past the first round.
So why bother?
Next,
