Overall, I never got much encouragement when I started out writing. My uncle said it was because I have an Irish name and everyone despises the Irish. But I still wrote, often wretched things that have since gone off to wherever stories go to when they've been given up on. I wrote a story about that, too. It was a story heaven where dead stories go. It didn't find a buyer and when my old Zenith computer kicked the bucket some stuff like that went off to story heaven. I liked that computer. It ran on plain old DOS. A lot of folks don't know what DOS was. Ah, a simpler time before constant daily updates from Windows. Just a yellow letters on black screen sort of thing. I miss it. I really do. And when it died and its incompatible files went off to story heaven, well things like a couple of plays and a novel no one liked went away forever. Back then we mailed stories to magazines and anthology editors based on hopelessly obsolete information in an era when the Internet was unknown to everyone but scientists. And they mailed 'em back with a form letter, usually unread and postmarked the same day they received them.
But the occasional personal reply would come in telling me I should give up writing or blasting me for sending in some "clunker" about people selling their souls to get published when the story I'd sent in had nothing to do with that. And people wonder how I got so damned cynical.
Well, a lot's happened since then. Lots of magazines have come and gone. Some of them I was sad to see go, others not so much.
And then there were the cons. I've lost count of how many of them have snubbed me in favor of some twerp with one or two published stories.
I used to fantasize about killing editors. I thought hunting them down and killing them would be wonderful. I even wrote a few stories and some poems about it. Now, writers fantasize about killing me. They go to sleep at night with thoughts of gunning me down at their favorite bookstore. All the while knowing they haven't got the guts to pull it off. And their dead stories I've long ago rejected are hanging out with mine up in story heaven somewhere.