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.

To Submit or Not to Submit

*****

I’ve been encountering an uncomfortable phenomenon lately. It’s called Why the Hell Did I Submit That (WTHDIST) Syndrome. Basically, WTHDIST is a condition where I pray for a rejection on a submitted story because I’ve figured out that it actually sucks.

I experienced WTHDIST just this morning. I’d been waiting on a response from my story, “The Game,” from Espresso Fiction for a few months. And this morning, the response arrived. I can’t describe for you the feeling of dread I had as I looked at the innocent Thank you for your submission to Espresso Fiction subject line. Usually, this is because I love a story and don’t want to see it rejected. But with “The Game,” it was a definite case of WTHDIST. Frankly, “The Game” is a damned stupid story. I’d be embarrassed to see it get published.

I filed away my rejection on Duotrope Digest’s handy-dandy Response Tracker, but a feeling of dread still hung on me. I wandered over to my remaining list of pending responses. And there, in all it’s hideousness, it was: a 118 day pending response entry for a little ditty titled “Nighttime Daddy.” I’d submitted the story to LitBits in a fit of pique after the story didn’t make the cut in a Writer’s Digest’s Your Story contest. 118 days later, this thing was haunting me like the lamb kebabs from my favorite Afghan restaurant. I found myself praying: please don’t let this thing get accepted. Or wishing it was lost in cyberspace.

The whole thing got me thinking: how do we decide what to submit and what not to submit? I’d like to think I can tell good from bad. But, usually, until I get a rejection, I often believe with naive earnestness that even my homeliest, gap-toothed, drooling babies are exquisite and graceful swans. Clearly, my internal editor has a bad wire.

But I think the real problem comes earlier in the process, long before I seek out a market, write my cover letter and send my darlings on their way. Bad stories are born of bad ideas. And bad ideas should be nipped before they sprout. I should dump duds early rather than waste time finishing and editing it. Then I could spend my time on the good stuff.

Easier said than done. Maybe it’s a matter of experience. Or of refining my literary palate. I wish I knew. Time is precious. I don’t want to waste it. And I don’t want to live with any WTHDIST’s haunting me by, somehow, making it into print.

On the Edge

*****

Well, I’ve done it again.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I have a knack for being edgy. But I think I really outdid myself yesterday while working on my Writer’s Digest Your Story entry. The prompt: A man enters a bar. But it isn’t a bar.

In my mind, this begs the question: well, what is it? After examining the myriad possibilities, I decided to approach the bar as a metaphor. Yes, it’s a bar, but to my viewpoint character, Kurt, it’s so much more.

So where does the edge come in, you ask. My answer: with Kurt himself.

Kurt is a hard-bitten sort, the type of alcoholic with a giant chip on his shoulder, who like Don Quixote, wants to fight the world. And because Kurt is tough, so is his language. He’s angry at the world, at his past, at himself, at God. He expresses it through his language and his fists. Unfortunately, I know where that language will land me: in the pile of Your Story rejects.

Just for kicks, I did a naughty word count. Fifteen. But that’s fifteen out of 750, which means a rather large proportion of what comes out of Kurt’s mouth will raise a reader’s eyebrows. And, yes, I thought about softening the language. But that wouldn’t fit Kurt. Kurt’s in your face. He’s confrontational. He wouldn’t back away from saying something because it might offend someone, so I shouldn’t back down when I put words in his mouth. If anything, he looks for ways to be offensive.

I have another idea for the prompt, a much gentler story, more in keeping with what WD usually leans toward. Since I know poor Kurt doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance, I’ll take that one out for a whirl, see what kind of magic comes out on the page. But I suspect my heart will remain with Kurt. Kurt bleeds on the page and doesn’t apologize for it. He has a burning hole where his heart should be. I feel his pain.

Sweet Satisfaction

*****
It’s been a spectacular week so far.

After a several week long dry spell, I finally got an acceptance yesterday. My 750 word flash, “The Burning Black,” was accepted by Every Day Fiction.

I have Writer’s Digest to thank for this little piece. “Burning Black” was my submission for their last Your Story contest. I wasn’t sure what to write about when I first read the prompt—a character finds something on the kitchen table that shouldn’t be there. But then I remembered my much longer story, “The Walnut Tree” (which has been floundering under the editorial consideration of Ep;phany for over 6 months now.) I liked “Walnut Tree” and felt there was more to explore with Peter and his dysfunctional, manipulative family. And talk about the ultimate challenge! Who’d ever think of cramming a 4500 short into the 750 word limit dictated by Writer’s Digest? Yep, yours truly.

I was happy with the results. I didn’t make the Your Story finals, but I liked the story enough to shop it around. And first time out, it fell into the hands of some sympathetic editors.

As of now, I don’t know exactly when “Burning Black” will be published. But, this marks an important milestone in my career. This will be the first time I’m getting paid to write something besides software manuals. It isn’t much, just a few dollars really, but it’s the start of a new phase for me—paid, professional writer. (Wow. Just typing those words makes me pause and shake my head.) It feels good to tick that goal off my 2008 list. Until the next rejection comes, I wallow in sweet satisfaction.