Eons ago, I posted that I had made a sale, that a story of mine called, "A Bird in the Hand," had been picked up by the Sam's Dot Publishing for inclusion in one of their books. I thought it would go into a magazine called Aiofe's Kiss and instead it ended up in one of their anthology collections called "Shelter of Daylight." No biggie, I got paid and it was another publication.
So, as I was trolling back through some of my old submissions status on Duotrope's Digest, I noticed that Sam's Dot Publishing was listed as defunct. It had been incorporated another publishing umbrella called White Cat Publications. These things happen, so I followed the internet trail. I was not prepared for what I found.
The first entry I found on White Cat's page regarding Sam's Dot was about the erstwhile publisher and it … it was sobering and very grim. I can't even really repeat what was written. You can read it here.
(Muse: You know none of this was your fault, right?)
I know. It's still difficult to accept. I believe in redemption, I believe in people earning a second chance. But Rick Moore was right: people have a right to decide for themselves with whom they associate, and I wish I had done my due diligence, and made my own decision with all the knowledge at hand.
You know, I really grew up as a kid trusting people, believing in people, wanting to expect the best of them. Even as I grew into a sour old curmudgeon who jokes that I would be right at home sitting on my porch, yelling at kids to get off my lawn – even then, I still retained, and still do retain, some romantic idealism about the world. And every time I want to believe in the best in the world, I find myself slapped with a little reality.
Sounds like a story there somewhere…