So, if a person were to enter a writing contest that says it will notify finalists in "early June," at what point should that person give up hope? Today, because only the first week of a month is really early? June 15, because anything in the first half is early? Only after the finalists are listed on the website and her name isn't there?

(I'm entered in the Pacific NW Writers Association literary contest, science fiction & fantasy category, and I'm ridiculously nervous, because it's the first time this WIP will be read by total strangers. And, they notify finalists by mail, so I can already guarantee I won't find out today. By MAIL. Sheesh. I don't get it. Not only is there this new-fangled thing called the internet, there's this downright old-fangled thing called the telephone.)

I'd give it 3-4 days after June 15th. As you said, "early June" can mean anything as late as the 15th. Since mail can take a few days, allow for that.

June 15th is Sunday. So I would keep up my hopes through at lest Saturday, June 14th.

[Update} And as sail says perhaps a few days past that as well.

Susan, I think statements like those are rough guidelines. Much the way I used to say I would try to respond to submissions within eight weeks. (It was more like six months, if they were lucky or had an agent who would call and yell at me.)

It's weird how low-information this is compared to RWA contests, where I'd almost always seen the scoresheet before entering, knew what pool they were drawing their first-round judges from, knew exactly who would be judging the finalists, etc. And since RWA is a close-knit organization, if you're on the right email loops you know exactly when finalist calls/emails start going out on a particular category.

This one? I know my entry got there and passed muster WRT formatting etc. because A) they cashed my check and B) they didn't contact me to say I'd used the wrong font or had too many lines per page or anything, and the rules said they would. I know every entrant is supposed to get two critiques, and that I gave them the proper size of SASE w/ Forever stamp to get mine. Other than that? I'm just watching my mail like a hawk. A jumpy, twitchy, anxious sort of hawk.

Susan, I wouldn't give up hope until the names are listed with a vague statement such as early June.

Huh. I think that's the association my brother in law's parents used to be active with before his dad retired from writing.

(I think both of them were on the board.) Small world!

I haven't been to any of their meetings yet, but they have a big multi-genre writers conference here every summer. That's part of the reason I want to know if I'm not a finalist. I can't afford two summer conferences, and I really want to do the Willamette one down in Portland, since it has more fantasy editors and a better slate of workshops, but if I'm a finalist in PNWA, it might make sense to go there instead.

I should probably just go ahead and register for Willamette. I mean, good workshops and the chance to meet Tor editors matter more than going to an award ceremony, especially given that only the actual WINNERS get a private reception with the editors and agents in attendance--most of whom wouldn't be right for my project anyway. And since Willamette is after PNWA, if I were to win, place, or show, that would be something I could talk about if I met anyone important. (At this point I'm not planning to pitch, since I don't think the WIP will be polished enough to submit till Oct or Nov at the earliest. I'm planning to go the Surrey conference in October, so I'll pitch then.)

This is why I can't write at home.

I'm working on a story for Drollerie, set in World War II, in England as a hospital where there are American wounded. I'm staring at the screen, trying to think of a name for a building, but whenever I Google it, it comes up as already in use.

"Why can't you use it?" Hubby asks. "Because it's already applied to something else." "So why can't you use it?" "Because I don't want to use the name of something else." "But why?" "Because I don't." "So what year is this?" "It doesn't matter." "You can't have it too early or too late, the Americans wouldn't have been in England." "Yes, I know. I'm not using a specific year." "What time of year is it?" "It doesn't matter." "Why doesn't it matter?" "Because it doesn't." "How do you know it doesn't?" "Sweetheart, I love you, please don't help."

Cue the sulk of the husband who wants to share everything I do and understand everything in my head. When I show him. finished, published stories, he tells me everything I should have done differently, because he knows I want to be the best I can be and he's more than happy to show me where I didn't quite make it.

In under the wire ...

Photo Seven (Bernard)

She remembers the day the photo was taken. Hugh had been so proud of his new camera, as eager to show off his new toy as he was to show off his son. He was appalled at Bernard’s heartsick expression, but she didn’t blame the child. She was an interloper. A pathetic substitute.

He’s never called her anything but Ruth. She doesn’t mind. She wishes him well, makes his meals, irons his clothes, but it’s his father she loves.

His father, who has, unthinkably, died and left them both. She thinks she understands now what the words “alone together” mean.