Not So Terrible

*****

This week, I took my recent Your Story entry to my weekly writing workshop. Since it didn’t make the cut with WD, I thought I’d work the piece over a bit to turn it into a saleable story. I explained the prompt and guidelines: Write 750 words max on Three boys go to a local swimming hole. Shortly after they arrive, something terrible happens.

Some of the responses I received got me thinking.

From one critic:

“…I don’t really think this meets the requirement of ‘something terrible’.”

From another:

“Not a ‘terrible’ event as the prompt had maybe wanted…”

On reexamination, I think they were right, to a certain extent. When I approached the prompt, I decided to take a creative approach to it, rather than falling into the trap of the predictable. I elected to rely on point of view. The events of the story—a young boy is thwarted when he attempts to kiss a girl he has a crush on – aren’t technically terrible. No one dies. No one is maimed. No flesh-eating zombies burst from the woods to eat the amorous young pair. But this thwarting of his blossoming youthful love feels terrible to Danny, the protagonist. He’s admired Beth from afar for a long time. He finally has a chance to overcome his social inadequacies and seize the moment and the girl. But he’s interrupted before he can clinch the deal. In my eyes, a teenager would see that as terrible.

It made me think of melancholy Prince Hamlet:

For there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so. (Act II, Scene 2)

Shakespeare knew it and all self-respecting writers know it: good and terrible are entirely relative. It’s called point of view.

Still, the critics got me thinking. In the end, here’s what I conclude:

My critics failure to see the terribleness of this event was not a failure of imagination on their part. But instead I think it marks a failure on my part as the author to paint the event in all its emotional drama.

So back to the drawing board to paint Danny’s heartbreak more darkly. I have a good idea how to do it. And now that the manacles of word count are off, I have no excuse for not getting it right.

No Go? Oh, Good!

*******

I found out today my story “Vanilla” didn’t make the cut for the latest Writer’s Digest Your Story contest.

A bit of backstory: not making the Your Story cut used to make me crazy. I’d read the finalists and bitch and moan. I’d boil over every trite phrasing the finalists got away with. I’d fume over every cheap ploy. It wasn’t fair! I’d labored over my entry. Couldn’t they see my genius, for God's sake??????

A year later, I couldn’t care less.

I’m actually rather relieved that my story wasn’t selected. This time, I’d felt my hands were tied by the 750 word limit. Vanilla is a story with a gigantic heart. But it was stifled by a restrictive word limit. Now, the sky’s the limit.

But there’s more than that to my change of heart.

Fact One: All I really want is a good story. And Vanilla could be very good. Had it made the cut, it would have been as half-developed adolescent. Now that the gloves are off, I can bring it to adulthood.

Fact Two: The whole story was born from the Your Story prompt. The story never would have come to life without it. A good prompt is like a gift from the writing gods. So, I didn’t win in the traditional sense, but really, I won.

Fact Three: Past losses have led to bigger, better wins. Burning Black was a Your Story reject from last year. I sold it to Every Day Fiction and it made their annual anthology. Now a copy of that anthology is sitting in a coffeehouse gathering me more readers (I hope) The ante is upped when you consider that even if Burning Black had been picked as a finalist in Your Story, it would have been put out anonymously until a final winner was selected. If it didn’t win, no one would ever know it was my story. And anonymity doesn’t net new readers.

How many times our losses turn out to be wins.

So what’s your story? When did you lose, then win? Give a holler. I like a good Cinderella story.