Back in April, I came across a short story contest that seemed perfect for me. The judge was a writer whose work I know well and respect, and his writing shares some elements with my own. I had a piece in progress that felt like a good fit.
The only potential hiccup was the timing. Could I complete
the necessary revisions in the limited time I had?
1 Month from Contest Deadline
I was in pretty good shape. I had plenty of work to do, but felt confident I could buckle down and get it done.
I devoted mornings and evenings to the task at hand—well, some mornings. There was the dog to take care of; the accidental-on-purpose oversleeping; the dishes that desperately needed washing; and of course those work emails I just couldn’t ignore.
Truth be told, it was only some evenings, too: I was too busy, too tired, too distracted, too anything
and everything to sit down with my writing.
Any of this sounding familiar?
2 Weeks from Contest Deadline
Starting to worry. I had made a little progress but not
nearly enough, not if I expected to have a complete, polished, submission-ready story in fourteen days.
It was time to get down to business.
Which I did.
Sort of.
1 Week from Contest Deadline
My leisurely pace was just not going to cut it anymore. Time to get down to business, for real this time.
So I put
my head down and I hacked away at that story for four full days. I took shower breaks (which David appreciated) and ate quick meals, but other than those necessary timeouts, I wrote. Whenever I felt like giving up (which was often) I reminded myself of the opportunity, of the value of my story, and of how far I’d already come, and that was enough to get me through.
Contest Deadline
I butted right up against that midnight deadline. And I made it. I got my story in. Phew!
Post-Contest (where the real winning is)
A few
weeks later, the contest results were released. You guessed it . . . I didn’t win.
Maybe you were expecting a tale of triumph. I’m sorry to disappoint. Better than triumph, though, is wisdom, and I can offer you that.
Sure, it would have felt great to be recognized for
my hard, often frantic work, and I was disappointed. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. But that initial letdown quickly transformed as I realized that there were larger, more important forces at work.
Somewhere in those crazed four days of nonstop writing, it stopped being about winning. It was still about success, but success on my own
terms.
Could I write a challenging story to completion? I could.
Could I write to a seemingly impossible deadline? I could.
Could I prioritize my
writing life over all else, thereby acknowledging its importance? I could.
Could I write the most promising piece of fiction I’ve produced in a while? I could.
And now I have a solid piece to shop around, and the confidence that comes from knowing that I could, I did,
and I can.
The writing life is full of disappointments. There’s no getting around that. It’s what we learn from them and what we do next that matters.
What’s your most memorable disappointing writing experience? What did you learn from it? In what ways are you a
better writer today because of it?
Respond to this email to let me know! (I’ll read now and respond next week, because I’m currently roaming the Spanish countryside.)
