You know when you want something so much it means you’ll never get it? I’ve spent the better part of the year wanting specific things to happen with my writing career (to no avail). Then, out of the blue, I receive an email this morning informing me a short story published in the Ocotillo Review has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. Most short story writers know about the prize, but for those who don’t:
The Pushcart Prize: Best of the Small Presses series, published every year since 1976, is the most honored literary project in America.
Since 1976, hundreds of presses and thousands of writers of short stories, poetry and essays have been represented in our annual collections. Each year most of the writers and many of the presses are new to the series. Every volume contains an index of past selections, plus lists of outstanding presses with addresses.
Now, a lot of writers get nominated for the Pushcart each year, so it’s not the biggest deal in the world. But it did at least get selected from 200 pieces published by Ocotillo in 2020. In other words: a welcome boost just before the end of the year. The magazine in which Combers was printed is sold out, but the editors have made it available to read online here (scroll down).
ice-cream man prize would also have been a good name, I feel.