I Wrote A Short Story!

Last week I hit a major milestone in my writing journey: I finished writing a short story.

No, really. I have proof.

It’s called “Decay,” and I wrote it as part of the 2020 Summer Writing Contest at The Write Practice. You can read it at Short Fiction Break.

It follows a woman – a mother of three young sons – as she finds herself isolated in a precarious situation: lost and injured in the woods.

And if you like it – which I hope you do – you can even vote for it as your favorite to win the Reader’s Choice Award.

So what?

I realized a single story is nothing to write home about, especially considering the volume of short stories written by such prolific authors as Stephen King (more than 200) and Ray Bradbury (600!), but it is a start.

Writing comes in fits and spurts for me these days, due mostly to the fact that my days are filled to the brim with the needs of my children. With little boys around, who has time to write, let alone think? It is all too easy to put off writing until that ever-evasive More Time comes along one of these days.

But the words of E.B. White ring through my mind so often:

A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to write will die without putting a word on paper.

E. B. White

So I did it.

I signed up at the very last minute for the 2020 Summer Writing Contest from The Write Practice, with just a week before the submission deadline. I knew I had my work cut out for me. I wasn’t even sure I had any ideas good enough to flesh out into a full story.

Somehow I managed to get a story drafted and submitted to the online writer’s workshop – a requirement for all entrants – before the deadline. (And when I say “somehow,” I mean through the generous aid of television, snacks and free use of the backyard water hose).

Once in the workshop, my story was available for other contestants to read and critique, and I was expected to do the same for other writers in exchange for their commentary. These critiques ended up being an incredible help to me as I worked through the editing stage of my story, and I ended up making major changes to both plot and story structure as a result.

But it wasn’t all critical.

I also got some major morale boosts from a few readers:

Wow, these were the exact reactions I was hoping for! I tried not to let the praise go to my head. But a writer isn’t a writer without a touch of narcissim, and I must admit it felt good to know my story resonated with at least a few readers.

When I finally submitted my story for judging, I was content with the final product. But more than that, I felt accomplished. I was able to achieve a goal, albeit a small one, that I set for myself several years ago: to write and publish fiction stories.

Fiction is intimidating.

Writing fiction is very new to me. My training and experience as a writer are deeply rooted in non-fiction editorial writing, mostly for newspapers and magazines. Fiction is well outside of my comfort zone, or so I thought.

But what I’ve discovered, is that both non-fiction and fiction writing meet the desire I have to tell stories. The biggest difference between the two, so far, is that with my previous non-fiction writing I was telling someone else’s story; fiction writing feels much more vulnerable. Though the characters and events are made-up, the writing itself is raw and real.

Fiction feels more personal.

My story – “Decay” – though not autobiographical in any way, was inspired by certain experiences in my own life. I channeled some of my own past emotional struggles as I wrote the earliest drafts of this story, and in that sense it is quite personal.

Which is why sharing my first finished piece of fiction is a challenging and emotional experience for me.

The doubts are swirling: “Is it any good?” “Will anyone like it?” “Does it make any sense?” Needless to say, the imposter syndrome is having a field day in my mind these days.

But none of that matters.

I would like to say how much I would love for you to read my story. But that isn’t quite right. I do not love the idea of my story being “out there,” susceptible to the honest opinions of anyone who might come along and read it. The thought of anyone reading my words and reacting to them in a negative way is gut-wrenching, to be honest.

But the thought of never having that happen is worse. If writing is important to me as a means of human connection – and it is – I must do the hard part of letting others see my work.

So while I am afraid of this first difficult step of putting work out there, I recognize that the leap of faith is required if I want to move forward as a writer.

I would very much not love for you to read my story, but I still want you to do it anyway.

Visit Short Fiction Break to read my story now.