by Michael Seese
It's been a while since I've "written about writing." I truthfully don't feel as though my writing is in a rut. But I have developed a certain routine. I have several novel-length works in progress that I try to make progress on. Then I occasionally get "sidetracked" to either polish a completed novel, or work on a short story.
Last month I sort of did both.
I'd spent the early part of the month expanding a Middle Grade book I had written a year or two back, trying to take it from 11,000 words (which I learned is too short) to 20,000 words (which I learned is about right) based on an agent's feedback.
But in the back of my mind, I had the Nelson Algren contest. Each year, the Chicago Tribune sponsors a short story contest in Algren's name. I entered two years ago, then somehow forgot about it last year.
This year (though technically in calendar year 2015) I resolved to submit something for 2016. I came up with the idea... over the summer, perhaps. I'd jot down little drabbles here and there. But I couldn't seem to find the unifying voice to keep it all together. Suddenly it was January, and the aforementioned MG book had my attention.
But I resolved to spend the last week-plus before the contest -- the due date was 1/31 -- on the piece.
Then life got in the way that week, and I couldn't garner the time to focus on it. When I went to bed Thursday night (bear in mind, it was due Sunday; but with the kids, it's hard to write on weekends) I'd all but resigned myself to having to pass this year.
When I woke up Friday morning, feeling guilty over my slacker attitude, I shook it off and said, "Damn it! You're a writer! So write it."
I knuckled down, and started wording away.
Friday...
Saturday...
Sunday...
When I made my "Damn it" resolution, I figured I could get in a big chunk of writing Sunday night. Then I realized that my wife and I were going to the Jake Shimabukuro concert.
(Quick aside: if you have a few minutes watch the video. You won't be disappointed.)
Great! But bummer!
The show started at 7:00. So we were home by 10:00. The deadline was three hours away, since it was due by 11:59 CST.
Write.
Write.
Write.
I finished with literally five minutes to spare.
Is it good? I don't know. Will it win? I really don't know.
But the point is...
Damn it! I'm a writer! And I wrote it.
Showing posts with label chicago tribune. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chicago tribune. Show all posts
Thursday, February 4, 2016
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Why Write?
I've been writing quite a bit lately. At least 30 - 60 minutes each day, which isn't bad when you consider that I have a day job and three young children. Why do I write? A recent Janet Reid blog was built around the message, "Keep writing, no matter what." I posted, "I often find myself writing, not because I want to, but because I have to. 99% of the time, I'm OK with that. But when I have to at 2:00 a.m....
And it's true. I do have to write, because the words are in my head, and I have to get them out. I can think of three recent examples, each with its own twist.
1. In my first post, I mentioned my book of interconnected short stories. I had been working pretty diligently on it. One day at work, I had a noon meeting. So at 11:45, I thought I should take a "necessity break." Standing there, two lines came to me:
And then came a revelation. No, make that THE revelation.
I really liked that, especially the "THE revelation" part, and didn't want to lose it. So I hurried back to my desk, grabbed my pen and trusty notebook, and wrote down those words. And more kept coming. And coming. At noon, the little pop-up said I had to dial in to my meeting. So I did. I went home that night and typed in what I had written. 350 words. 350 words that came flowing out of nowhere on the heels of two short sentences. So the words apparently were there. I just didn't realize it.
2. About a year ago, I read about a Chicago Tribune ghost story contest. It had to be under 700 words, and set in Chicago. Since we had recently published our book of short ghost stories, I thought, "Why not?" I've only been to Chicago once, to see my beloved Indians play the Cubs. That was a great time; but it's another story. So Wrigley Field probably was the only Chicago setting I could reasonably talk about. The deadline was approaching, and I hadn't written anything. I was lying in bed one night, and my mind started to work: some guy is having a bad day, he feels strange; he goes to Wrigley to watch a game; he's always wanted to catch a home run ball; dark clouds gather; then a ball starts heading his way; he puts out his arms to catch it and it passes right through him; a blowing newspaper stops by his feet; he sees his face and reads the headline, "Man pushed in front of El. Teens charged." Then I started to fill in other details: he was having a bad day, made worse by the punks at the train station, etc. Finally around 1:00 a.m., I said to myself, "I might as well go write it. Otherwise I'll be thinking about it all night." So in that case, I worked over the words obsessively, and they forced me to get them out of my head.
3. On my far-away horizon is a series of thrillers that feature the same protagonist: an intrepid reporter. One of the story ideas that had been kicking around in my head for literally a year was his adventure in a certain well known legendary place that he stumbles upon. (Actually, he's kidnapped into it.) So one day I had some time, and decided to do a brain dump. One hour, 2,000 words! So in the final case, the words had been bumping around my brain, and I just decided to extract them.
That's why I write.
And it's true. I do have to write, because the words are in my head, and I have to get them out. I can think of three recent examples, each with its own twist.
1. In my first post, I mentioned my book of interconnected short stories. I had been working pretty diligently on it. One day at work, I had a noon meeting. So at 11:45, I thought I should take a "necessity break." Standing there, two lines came to me:
And then came a revelation. No, make that THE revelation.
I really liked that, especially the "THE revelation" part, and didn't want to lose it. So I hurried back to my desk, grabbed my pen and trusty notebook, and wrote down those words. And more kept coming. And coming. At noon, the little pop-up said I had to dial in to my meeting. So I did. I went home that night and typed in what I had written. 350 words. 350 words that came flowing out of nowhere on the heels of two short sentences. So the words apparently were there. I just didn't realize it.
2. About a year ago, I read about a Chicago Tribune ghost story contest. It had to be under 700 words, and set in Chicago. Since we had recently published our book of short ghost stories, I thought, "Why not?" I've only been to Chicago once, to see my beloved Indians play the Cubs. That was a great time; but it's another story. So Wrigley Field probably was the only Chicago setting I could reasonably talk about. The deadline was approaching, and I hadn't written anything. I was lying in bed one night, and my mind started to work: some guy is having a bad day, he feels strange; he goes to Wrigley to watch a game; he's always wanted to catch a home run ball; dark clouds gather; then a ball starts heading his way; he puts out his arms to catch it and it passes right through him; a blowing newspaper stops by his feet; he sees his face and reads the headline, "Man pushed in front of El. Teens charged." Then I started to fill in other details: he was having a bad day, made worse by the punks at the train station, etc. Finally around 1:00 a.m., I said to myself, "I might as well go write it. Otherwise I'll be thinking about it all night." So in that case, I worked over the words obsessively, and they forced me to get them out of my head.
3. On my far-away horizon is a series of thrillers that feature the same protagonist: an intrepid reporter. One of the story ideas that had been kicking around in my head for literally a year was his adventure in a certain well known legendary place that he stumbles upon. (Actually, he's kidnapped into it.) So one day I had some time, and decided to do a brain dump. One hour, 2,000 words! So in the final case, the words had been bumping around my brain, and I just decided to extract them.
That's why I write.
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