This week I’ve been writing madly on my WIP wanting to enter the first two chapters in the West Virginia writers contest with postmark deadline today, March 31.
It was a lofty goal as the story idea was only two weeks old, in its earliest stages of life when I decided to enter it. I had pulled out old stories and just didn’t have the enthusiasm to do heart surgery on any one of them at this time.
This story with the working title, KILL ME OR DRIVE ME TO FLORIDA, is told from eight year old Daisy Dunn’s point of view. She, her mother, and her brother are driving old Frank Stutler to Florida in his battered station wagon. Right now the story is so new that details change almost daily.
However, yesterday, fearing that I would not have those last few pages finished for today’s mailing, I started second guessing every word, every sentence, even the very idea until I had myself convinced that I should trash the whole manuscript and be done with it.
I have a demon editor that lives inside me and fights me at every turn, especially when I write fiction.
So, I put on my hat of reason and responsibility. I know my idea is good because of the enthusiasm I have when I work on it, and while the story might not be ready for entry in a contest - that was my goal and so I would submit it.
This afternoon it’s going to the post office. The West Virginia Writers, Inc. needs my entry fee and I need the feeling of accomplishment that comes with taking the next step in the process of writing. Letting your work go.
I can do one of two things after the manuscript is gone. I can sit at my computer and bemoan letting the story go so soon. I can start taking the story apart and magnifying every error.
Or I can celebrate the small victory - the victory of letting it go. Of sending it out into the world to have someone other than myself and my critique partners read it.
I’ve decided to celebrate. It’s those small moments that make us the writers that we are.
We write. We toss it out to the world. We write. We toss.
Anyone with me on this one? Should we toss our work out into the world? Or hold it tightly in our arms for our own comfort?