Short Story Comeback
A few weeks ago, I scored a gut-wrenching, stop-writing-now three points out of 25 in the first challenge in round one of the NYC Midnight short story contest. It didn't matter. There were two challenges in the round, and the second one was to take place that weekend.
So, confidence slightly shattered, I let the second assignment percolate in my head and proceeded to come up with "The Goodbye Cliff," which I turned in 48 hours later. I hadn't expected much, and in fact let go of it a little bit. I even overlooked some bad verb tenses and submitted it a full two hours before it was due.
Buoyed by positive feedback from other participants on the forum, I allowed myself to feel a little okay about my attempt. Nevertheless, I expected little. I did the normal, hopefully healthy adult thing. I thought about the process. Writing the two stories was a lot of fun, even though it came with that same writerly kind of anguish that emerges when the effect you want to achieve is still a couple of late-night/early-morning hours off. That's part of the fun. Now maybe I won't wait for contests.
Well, it's not over yet. Yesterday, the results were posted, and I'm happy (and somewhat shocked I must say) at the comeback I pulled off. I scored an 18 out of a possible 25. Eighteen! I think my stomach dropped a little bit. I actually cupped my hand over my open mouth. Round two. This should be a reality show!
Not really.
So with this little personal writing victory, I advanced to the second round, thus earning myself another assignment and another
4839 hours in which to do it. I couldn't wait to get the assignment.
And then I did. The genre? Historical fiction. Fuck. The setting? A fucking dentist's office. And I have to include a leather jacket. I've written nothing.
