Most writing takes place sitting down, hovering over a keyboard. If you’re fortunate, you fall away into the keys and the world you’re writing about surrounds you. If you’re not so fortunate, each word is like pulling out a plywood splinter. Most of the time it’s somewhere in-between.
When I first began writing seriously, that is, thinking that I might actually submit something to a publication (for money, one hopes), I was twenty three years old. And I’d already felt like I’d gotten a late start. After all, Stephen King published Carrie when he was twenty six – I was way behind the eight ball!
I had always written plays and screenplays in high school and through college. And even though I haven’t made a career out of playwriting or screenwriting, in my hearts of hearts, I saw myself as a dramatist. Still do, actually. But in those first years I was writing short stories; mainstream, suspense, and a little horror.
I was writing on a Smith-Corona electric typewriter at the time. I liked the feel of it. The keys fit my fingertips, even if I only typed about 45 words a minute. But I remember the feeling of writing my first real short story. It was called ‘In The Drain’ and was kind of a mix of mystery, black comedy and horror/science fiction. Kind of like a B fifties film. I was reading a lot Stephen King and Ray Bradbury at the time and it was kind of a mash-up of those two styles, if you can imagine.
The story wasn’t all that good, but it had kind of a loopy, quirky, riveting narrative drive. I remember when I had a friend read it for the first time. She sat in a chair, read it and then without looking up, said that there were a lot of typos. Then she looked up, smiled wide and yelled, “But it’s great!”
It was a wonderful feeling to get something down on paper like it was in your head. Well, mostly. That’s always the trick, you see. Ideas are easy; it’s translating the tale in your head to something concrete on the page without losing it in translation that’s the hard part.
I began submitting the story to magazines and the standard rejections (‘Thank you for submitting, this doesn’t fit our current needs…’) began peeking out of my mail box with regularity. But I wasn’t all that discouraged because I felt like I had completed something and it was out in the real world trying to find a home.
I remember the day when I got another rejection and feeling a little discouraged I started to crumple it up and throw it away. But I noticed at the bottom of the paper something scrawled in pen. I unfolded the piece of paper and read it. It said : “This is good but not for us. Try us again.”
It was my first validation. Editors have no idea (or maybe they do) what a little personal remark on a standard rejection form does for a weary writer. That note pushed the discouragement aside and that night I started writing another story. I hadn’t published anything yet, but I could smell it and there was no turning back.
