By Lillian Csernica on May 30, 2015
Today I read over a story I wrote fifteen years ago. At the time I thought it was pretty good. Not Pushcart material, but the basic premise was entertaining. The antagonist was based on somebody I knew in real life, one of the stranger people I’ve met in my wanderings. I chose a setting quite familiar to me, a particular type of restaurant where I liked to go often. I made up a protagonist that seemed to be well-orchestrated in comparison to the antagonist.
The story has been rejected several times.
Why?
That’s the question I kept asking myself. I trimmed the backstory. I juiced up the fantasy elements. I refined the protagonist. Still didn’t help much.
So today, fifteen years later, I read the story and understood it had some good elements, but it was not fully developed. In fact, it was time to toss out that version and start from scratch.
That hurts. It’s not fun admitting you created something that isn’t very good. That’s one edge of the sword called Perspective.
The other edge is sharper, honed on the whetstone of my keyboard and my notebooks. I’ve done a lot of writing in the fifteen years since I wrote that story. I’ve sold a novel and quite a few short stories. I can’t fix what’s wrong with the original version of that particular story, but I can salvage the ideas that made it worth writing and remake them into better, stronger material.
Beginning writers are often reluctant to let go of part or all of something they’ve written. They’re sometimes afraid that they won’t be able to think up something else. Once you learn that there will always be more words, you’re free. Yes, it’s hard. Yes, some days the words hide and it feels like squeezing the last drop of blood from solid rock. Believe me, I’ve had those days and they’re hellish.
There are more words. More outside, in print and digital forms. More inside, in the imagination.
If all you can do is take pen in hand and scribble in a cheap composition notebook, whining and crying and complaining about how you can’t get the words right, well guess what? You’re still writing. And that’s OK.
Andy Couturier, world class writing instructor, taught me this motto: “Keep the pen moving.”
It doesn’t matter if it’s a pen or a pencil or a crayon or your hands on the keyboard or a tape recorder or Dragonspeak. It doesn’t matter, as long as you keep the pen moving and keep more words appearing on the page.
Another wise person once said, “You have to write something, before you can write something good.”
This doesn’t bode well for some of my bottom drawer stories, does it? Oh, well. Time to kick that chupacabra tale in the butt!
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This is why they call them “trunk stories.” Some of them deserve to be forgotten.
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Great post, Lillian. I can totally understand that …. I’m at the stage in my development where I read something that I only wrote a couple of months ago and balk at all the things I didn’t see before. I guess it’s good I can see them now, but it is a bit discouraging!!
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Just keep telling yourself, “This is a good thing. Now I know better. I’m getting better at this!”
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This is so true. When we start writing, we are very attached to everything we write, Even now, when I suggest possible changes in a story to a beginner, I often get the same answer: but that’s the only way I can possibly write it.
Of course it isn’t. One certain thing about writing (and there are so few of them) is that nothing is ever unchangeable. Everything can be turn upside down… with a lot of work, sure, and I suspect this is what scars many.
As for old stories… reading them is always a bit embarassing, don’t you think? I’m thinking about revising the first story about the MCs of my current WIP and I’m so apprehesive about it… and I wrote that story only five years ago.
But I’m sure it will be fun 🙂
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I see patterns in my older writings that remind me of what mattered most to me then. Some of it I cherish, and some of it just makes me want to go bang my head against the wall.
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You stole my words 🙂
But it’s also kind of sweet seeing our younger selves through those works.
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