A Writer's Garbage Bin
not everything is worth keeping
For the past few weeks, I’ve struggled with a story. A magazine I’ve often contributed to asked if I was interested in sending them something. No pressure and no guarantee it would be accepted. I was tempted to tell them that I have nothing in the hamper meeting their requirements. It’s true. All I got is a couple of unfinished horror stories, and a few crime pieces out on the submission treadmill awaiting answers.
None of that fits the magazine’s themes and length specifications.
But it’s nice to be invited and I like the editors, so I decided to go for it, and started working on a variation of classic noir: “regular people making ONE bad decision, and believing they got away with it.” We all know the feeling. Because it’s a crime story, the mistake is more serious than having one too many helpings of grandma’s gut-busting lasagna followed by her award-winning chocolate cake.
This is my third attempt at getting the thing to take flight, which means versions 1, 2, and 3 are on the laptop. It would be more satisfying if I could rip the pages out of a typewriter, crumple them, and throw them in the bin, missing, of course. The reality of failure made physical.
I’m not suffering from a case of writer’s block. I’m not really stuck (for a great post on that topic I recommend Victor De Anda’s substack published earlier this week). This is a different beast. The story doesn’t click. It’s blah. Dishwater. Booooo-ring.
What to do when a piece isn’t going anywhere? I’m not the only one, far from it, with scraps of writing floating in the Cloud gathering digital dust bunnies.
The only way out is to scratch and start again.
It can be hard to do. Nobody likes to trash their work. It’s tempting to try to salvage the damn thing. That’s a cool paragraph, that’s a great sentence … maybe it can be rescued, uh? Soon it’s version 8 or 9 and that dog still limps.
The further in the process, the more difficult it gets. Quicksand sucking you in.
Last month, I worked on a long story for an anthology (5500 words, 20 pages), a period piece that required a lot of research. Very time-consuming. I spent hours trying to figure out how long it took to go by train from San Francisco to Saint Louis in 1946—schedules are online, stacks of them—all that work for what might have ended as a throwaway line of dialogue (yes, I’m compulsive, and I like details to be accurate). It was pointless because two thirds in I realized the entire story was a hot mess and destined for the dustbin. The narrative was flatter than a pancake and a lot less tasty.
I should have deleted the file right away, but I couldn’t. I’d spent two weeks on it. I looked at it, considered CPR, transplants, resuscitation. Nope. Dead as a doornail.
Throwing it away was painful.
Luckily, most of the research—not the train schedules—wasn’t a waste. It could support a completely different and, I believe, much stronger story. Which doesn’t mean it will be accepted by the publication I sent it to.
But that’s a different ball game, one I have no control over. All I know is that I submitted something I have faith in. And if I do, somebody else will, eventually. My most rejected story (85 times, I counted, it must be a record) was written six years ago and found a home this year—full disclosure it’s been revised a lot, even if the central theme remained intact. Despite all the “no, thanks”, I believed in it. You have to be a stubborn mule in this business, with a solid sense of humor. If you want to read the story, it’s here. I’d be interested to hear what you think about it. Be honest, would you have rejected it too? And if you can figure out why all these people didn’t like it, please, let me know!
Back to the story I’m wrestling with right now. I’ve decided to put it aside, and let ideas mature. I have a feeling it’s going to turn into something a lot darker than what I initially had in mind.
Meanwhile, I’ve exhumed a story fragment from the unfinished pile. It has an engaging narrator, with a very unique voice. I think the magazine that approached me might take a shine to it. But what do I know …
Seasonal Goodies
Publications pull out all the stops around the Holidays and call for themed stories.
This one was not in response to such a call but fits the spirit of the season. It’s Dispatcher, published by editor Cody Sexton at A Thin Slice of Anxiety. People have told me they wouldn’t mind seeing more from these characters … I’m not excluding the possibility.
Catnip was written in response to a Crime-Christmas call from publisher Shotgun Honey. It’s super-short, 700 little words, no room for lollygagging … I dedicate it to beloved Margot Underfoot Proctor (picture below) who, in quintessential cat fashion, could not resist a sparkling Christmas tree.
In closing, warm thanks to Fiction Kitchen Berlin and editors Shane and Daniela O’Halloran who were among the first to publish my stories. The magazine is moving to a podcast format next year (keep them in mind, writers). To usher in that new phase, they have recorded stories from the magazine. Here’s mine: Defector, a few minutes long, the Kitchen is strictly flash fiction. Defector is a science fiction spy story, with a touch of romance, a goofy treat. Click here to listen.
PS: And if you haven’t read Love You Till Tuesday yet… now is a good time. Find a nice warm spot, and enjoy.
"The narrative was flatter than a pancake and a lot less tasty."
Now THAT's a great line!
They live in a special folder in my hard drive.