He had a driftwood heart; he had sleepy-ocean eyes.I lifted my bloodied head from the sand and there he was, standing on spindly branching legs. Battered wreckage that had long since been washed thin and worn by the waves. I felt the pound of the surf in my temple, in my throat, in my groin.I coughed up the salty sea and he only stood watching.As my vision blurred out, I began to think he was only flotsam. Only jetsam. Not a man at all.
I’ve had my eye on DSF for quite some time, hoping to be published with them. “Some Men Break” was my eighteenth submission to this magazine and my first YES. It wasn’t the story I thought they would buy–I thought it was too language-focused, not enough clear plot, etc. I learned the value of persistence (after 17 rejections) and not self-rejecting (you never know sometimes what will strike an editor just right!) with this one story sale. Super happy.