Appendix A

Still Reading: For the Relief of Unbearable Urges by Nathan Englander and Great Jewish Short Stories (Saul Bellow, Editor).

Just Finished: Most of the last two issues of The Atlantic Monthly. Besides thought-provoking literary criticism, it offers delectable non-fiction on everything from world affairs, politics, China, technology, and media. Exactly what I need to recharge.

Best Author Interview of the Month: A heart-breaking talk with F. Scott Fitzgerald from 1936.

And I thank you for your kind attention.

Writing in Terror or Terrible Writing?

I’m writing a short story for a national contest I know I won’t win. But I committed to it anyway, to test myself, to see what I got (or don’t got).

Naturally there’s a page limit to submissions and I’m learning (though this doesn’t surprise me) that I have more of a novelist’s sensibility (the art of elaboration) than a short story writer’s instinct (which seems to prize compression.

Because of this, I’m now on at least my sixth draft of what I perceived to be a simple idea. My original, “streamlined” plot (they meet, R arrives & complicates, M arrives & complicates, A arrives & complicates, final confrontation, resolution) has been slashed. M and the final confrontation are gone; I’ve banished all sorts of lovely dialogue, while R and A are now slighter and I’m still not sure how it’ll end in two pages.

I’m terrified this will be as lame as my fears tell me it is. I’m terrified I can’t do this well, much less right. I’m terrified I have little boy dreams without big boy talent. All those fears may be correct.

Still, this is my task and I’ll see it through to the end and await the response in January.

Happily, I’ve been reading about writing since I was a kid and, at key moments throughout this month of crazed scribbling, words from the greats and the accomplished have appeared to reassure me. So, while the above is true, the below is more accurate.

Writing in Terror or Terrible Writing? - The Annotated Version
I’m writing a short story for a contest I know I’m not going to win. <“Writing is an act of hope.” -Margaret Atwood> But I committed to it anyway, to test myself, to see what I got (or don’t got).

Naturally there’s a page limit to submissions and I’m learning (though this doesn’t surprise me) that I have more of a novelist’s sensibility (the art of elaboration) than a short story writer’s instinct (which seems to prize compression.

Because of this, I’m now on at least my sixth draft of what I perceived to be a simple idea. <“The key to writing is rewriting.” –Hemingway> My original, “streamlined” plot (they meet, R arrives & complicates, M arrives & complicates, A arrives & complicates, final confrontation, resolution) has been slashed. M and the final confrontation are gone; I’ve banished all sorts of lovely dialogue <“You have to be willing to kill your babies” –Samuel Johnson (paraphrase)>; while R and A are now slighter and I’m still not sure how it’ll end in two pages. <“Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.” -E. L. Doctorow >

I’m terrified this will be as lame as my fears tell me it is. I’m terrified I can’t do this well, much less right. I’m terrified I have little boy dreams without big boy talent. All those fears may be correct. at every moment that it’s worth doing.” -Tobias Wolfe>

Still, this is my task and I’ll see it through to the end and await the response in January.

As in Writing, So in Life
I was going to get all moralistic here and compare these quotes with the way Scripture is supposed to work in our life, we hide it away in our hearts so that it will guide us during times of peace and times of challenge. That’s all true of course, but then I’m preaching. A writer should let the power of the story be the message.

Me?

I’m actually dreaming for a note from the contest judges that says something encouraging. That would be fabulous, a writerly version of “Well done though good and faithful servant,” a message to continue in spite of the fear.