Writing Anxiety

I previously blogged about how anxious I get before submitting any of my written creations to anyone anywhere for any reason. Once I submit, I’m fine. In one recent instance, I became very anxious and agitated after I submitted to the January Storytwigs micro-fiction contest that I blogged about so you could enter. I supplied you a blogplanation of my writing faux pas as the source of my post-submission anxiety and a reason to have a good editor. Well, a reader alerted me that Storytwigs appears to be in a coma on life support. After resurrecting itself for a January contest, the Storytwigs needle appears to be stuck in the January groove. The relaunch may have failed. RIP Storytwigs … again. My apologies to anyone who took the time to write and submit, but it was only 100 words. Most of my grocery lists are longer.

Anyway, it was anxiety time for me again as I spotted this inexpensive contest.

Sequestrum is looking for themed submissions, and their theme of Slipstream and Magic Realism seemed to suit a story of mine well. Here’s an excerpt from my story titled “A Nose for Math.”

I had fallen asleep reading with the light on, so I could see perfectly what was in my hand. Except, I had no idea what it was. It initially looked like a cute little octopus no larger than a dime. Upon further inspection, it was obviously not a sea creature that I had sneezed out. It certainly seemed at home out of water, and it was able to perambulate adequately on its multiple legs or tentacles or whatever the hell they were. And where did it seem to want to go? Back up toward my nose which was so much easier to breathe through suddenly.

Now common sense should have led me to capture the little creature in a glass jar or some other container, and take it to the authorities to identify it. But what authorities? An entomologist, zookeeper, or an ear, nose, and throat doctor? The thought crossed my mind that maybe I should have called NASA to try and identify this seemingly otherworldly creature. There was a pattern of squares on its tiny back that were constantly changing from light to dark. Watching it was simply mesmerizing. It may have been a code or language of some sort, but I certainly didn’t understand it, or did I? As I watched the squares change from light to dark, a feeling of calm and safety enveloped my body, and I let the creature climb up my arm closer to its former home.

I entered it into the contest with the weird theme. It cost only 6 bucks and change, about what a Starbucks Mocha Frappucino Chai Tea Latte with extra foam, caramel drizzle, and chocolate shavings costs. There’s still time for you to enter. Anyway, my anxiety stemmed from having two different versions of the story with one labeled as “Vampire Version.” Now what did that mean, and which version should I use? Once I decided on the non-bloodsucking one, I went through my normal pre-submission anxiety.

I have come to realize that writing is very subjective, like music. For my next anthology of short stories, I have a written a story that I quite like. The problem is that my editor and trusted readers did not like it. They found it boring with a predictable ending. They say writing reflects the author, so …

Anyway, I am determined to include that story in the collection, so I rewrote parts of it and particularly the ending. My anxiety level soared as I sent it to my editor and also to a trusted reader – my wife. I have no idea how she does it, but she can tell what’s going to happen in a movie after the first scene. My editor is the same way. Would I fail twice with one story? There was no way I could trip them up with my reworked ending … until I did. Having the main character unexpectedly turn into molten lava was a plot twist they didn’t expect. Seriously, my less extreme twist at the end worked. They are still not thrilled with the story, but at least they didn’t guess the ending.

My editor did suggest I rewrite the story into present tense to make it a bit livelier. That’s an interesting approach that I had not considered. I’m going to try that and compare the two versions. Sneaking a present tense story into the middle of an anthology may be a nice change of pace for the reader. Hey, look at me dispensing writing tips.

And then, as Jim approaches the end of his blog post, he rips off his skin exposing … hot lava. That may become my signature ending.