Sometimes rejects are good enough

In Nights Arms

It's been a long time now, since I have put my mind to writing anything at all.

Found myself browsing through quite a few peoples old stories on ficly one day and decided it was time to pick it up again.

So here i am, again. Hopefully soon I will have something to contribute, in the meantime it's great to see so many familiar people here.

The pile of rejects on the end of my desk grew with a haste I wasn't quite expecting. This was the first I looked down to see that sometime through the day it spilled down to the floor under my feet. Of course picking it all up meant I sat reading them again, as if I forgot that I wrote them just today.

I felt a smirk creep into my expression, it was like reading a child's attempts. Even out loud there wasn't a discernable flow or feeling to any of it. Not that I hated it, there were the beginnings of the spark I needed, just not enough yet.

Instead I decided to watch my actual writing, not something I often worried about. This time it was rather telling, at the start of the day words looked hasty and unfinished, without the small bits of flair I had developed. The last few pages though, quite a different view. It all started to look complete, thought out and clean, an improvement mirrored in the pages as a whole.

Even without a completed and satisfying story it was better, and today that is victory enough.


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Comments (3 so far!)

Robert Quick

Robert Quick

Indeed. Every step forward is a step worth taking. It's the only way to get anywhere. I've only collected a handful (is that even the right term for something electronic) of coldly encouraging rejection notices. Sometimes I read something I wrote and I hate it. I hate that it's bad, I hate that I wrote it, and I feel nothing but contemptuous disgust for the both of us. Sometimes I read something and I genuinely smile at clever word play that I wrote, or sit back go well that's pretty good (or not bad, not bad at all). Unfortunately there's a little voice that tries to remind me that those were all a while ago and that my best work is behind me, unread, gathering electronic dust on a site that few remember. I try to shake off my doubts and keep writing, and if this story is an accurate reflection of your situation, I think you should too. Cheers!

  • #3326 Posted 5 months ago
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In Nights Arms

In Nights Arms

I just struggled to find my voice again, if that makes any sense. I had kind of found an identity for myself with my writing. Thats really the struggle I'm having now. It's pretty much just me not knowing how to say anything that feels genuine.

  • #3330 Posted 5 months ago
  • 0
Robert Quick

Robert Quick

Totally makes sense, I think many of us have that problem. I honestly have no idea what my voice sounds like. Even Lovecraft struggled with this saying, "There are my 'Poe' pieces and my 'Dunsany pieces' — but alas — where are my Lovecraft pieces?"

  • #3331 Posted 5 months ago
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