The echoing silence…

In early August of 2023, I got an unsolicited message to my Instagram account from someone who I did not know. She had apparently seen a post I had put on a Nigerian nostalgia Facebook page where I talked about my book ,and had checked out my writing Instagram page.

She loved my Instagram page, she said.

She loved the premise of my memoir, based on the snippets I had posted, she said.

She loved the photos that brought my memoir to life, she said.

She was an editor of an African literary journal and would love to chat to me about submitting a chapter from my book in their soon to be published inaugural digital publication, she said.

I was elated, excited. 

I immediately googled her and the literary journal and organization she worked for. They were legit – based in Ghana, really supporting the voices of African literature. I was excited, impressed and flattered that she would be interested in supporting my work.

I hastily set-up a zoom call in which we introduced ourselves and talked about the opportunity.

Their organization was set to launch a brand-new digital magazine and their inaugural edition was to be focused on women – women’s stories, told by women.  Was there a standalone chapter in my book that would align with this theme she asked?

Indeed, I had a chapter in my book about how my father stood me up at my wedding – would this suffice? She was excited and promised to read the chapter and return soon with edits and dates for when the story would be published.

That was August 2023.

I heard nothing back after chasing multiple times. Then suddenly, out of the blue in February this year, I got an email with edits to my chapter (very minor edits I was delighted to see) and a new title for the chapter: Father of the Bride. There was no information about when my story would be published, but I was excited, progress was being made. 

But then silence.

I have chased and chased and chased. I managed to get hold of her personal email address and she responded briefly to say she had left said organization and I should contact her former boss. I have emailed him and again silence.

It has been almost a year and a half since I submitted my story and I have been strung along mercilessly in my opinion. 

This is just another form of rejection that authors face. Hopes are raised then dashed ruthlessly.

I do think editors should communicate better – just tell me what the hell is going on. If there has been a change in leadership or the digital version has been scrapped or they no longer like my piece whatever, I just need to know something.

I read some discussion about this online and the consensus seems to be to write to the publication after a period of time and withdraw my story. I think I may well do that!

This is super frustrating, I was so excited to be featured in this West African anthology of short stories about women. It seemed to check so many boxes and align with so much of what my book is about and who I am.

Alas – it was not meant to be. Yet another disappointment to add to the many on this journey.

As Harold Pinter said, the echoing silence is pretty awful.