Secret Project Update

Earlier this week, I finished my eighth round of edits on my secret project. Believe it or not, I think this story actually has a chance. Maybe my judgement is impaired because I am writing this at roughly 3 hours past my bedtime, but I feel encouraged at the moment. And I hardly would have thought that possible a month or two ago.
It's funny the emotional journey associated with this project. Early on, I had to rally my courage just to let my beta-reader see it. Later, my sister expressed her regrets that she didn't have time to read it at the moment, and I told her that I would let her read it later if it won (and that, if it didn't, "nevermind - because it must not have been worth reading anyway"). Then I let two young friends read it because they were so excited and encouraging and willing to offer their feedback. And now, I am leaning back with a feeling of satisfaction and a tingling hope that it just might win. It's the craziest feeling ever.

I know a number of skilled, talented writers who are entering this contest. Frankly, it's a little intimidating. I feel like they have so much more experience than I do, and I wonder (since they seem so confident) whether my story even has a chance. And that is not the feeling that I want to give you when you read of my "tingling hope." Instead, I want to instill in you the understanding that any of us have a chance...and even more so if we work on our craft. I want to promise that, even if a first draft doesn't seem prize-worthy, it can be improved upon. I want to assure you that, somewhere down the line, you will look at your revised manuscript with a smile and say "THIS is better."

And, yes, it is a pretty cool feeling.

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A Hard Goodbye

"You're more poet than anything." I folded my arms and glared at Ian. He sat perched on the edge of the roof, dressed like an adventurer. I coveted every part of his outfit -- the breezy shirt made of course cloth, the sturdy breeches, the leather boots that laced up to his calves, the dagger on his hip. Tomorrow he would set sail to a life I craved more than anything. But did he appreciate his opportunities? No. And I hated him for it. "Do you despise poets, Ingrid?" His voice was sad, but a grin twisted at the corners of his mouth as he finished his question. Those blue eyes of his cut in my direction with a teasing flash. "They don't DO anything." My thoughts and emotions ran in torrents, but I could see his flowing smoothly and quietly. Even in his uneasiness about the morrow, his face was a peaceful as a child falling asleep in his own bed. ...

The Countdown: Eight Days

Eight days. Do you know what that means? Barely over a week. Tomorrow will be one week from the announcement date. Are you excited? I am. So, today, I want to talk to those who wrote something for the contest, whether or not you entered it in the end. What made you start writing your story? What was the first inkling of an idea that tickled your brain? What was it that you liked about your premise? As you wrote, did you have a favorite character or a favorite scene? And are you glad you wrote it down? Do you feel like you learned and grew in your ability as a writer as you tried out things for this contest? And, if your story isn't included in this year's Rooglewood anthology (either because you didn't submit it or because it didn't fit with the other four stories selected), what will you do with it? Will you market it elsewhere? Or will you lock it away in a drawer?

Goodbye and God Be With You

It's rather fitting that some things come to a close on this day -- the last day of the year. I submitted my last entry into the Rooglewood contest this morning. I can hardly believe it took me until the day of the deadline to send it in because I'm usually earlier than that. And, even with the extra time I took, I still felt a little bit like maybe I could have done better if I had more time. But there was no feeling of regret when I hit "send." Mostly it was just a prayer that Rooglewood would hear the heart of the message when they read it and that maybe, if I win, they could help me bring the full potential out of my little story. And there was also a feeling, after working on these stories for more than six months, that it felt good to close that chapter and move on to the next one. I did it. I wrote them. And I'm really proud of them. Last year, the act of hitting "send" on my contest entry catapulted me into an anticipatory state....

The Pen of a Ready Writer

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