A Profound Point
Okay, here's more regarding the last blog I wrote in which Allan gave me some great insights long ago. Even so, I threw out all the pages I had typed because they were the old past, and, as God in Heavenletters™ says more than once, we "gotta let go."
Here is a profound point that Allan made so many years ago that I remember from my quick scan of some of the fifty or more pages I tossed when I was on Jacqueline's second floor and going through boxes stored there. At the time I spoke to Allan, I was doing a lot of fiction-writing, and I was sending my stories out to various magazines. I was getting some fabulous personal responses from editors, hand-written responses from the editors of Redbook, The New Yorker, Cosmo! It is a big thing to get more than a form rejection letter.
I was so close but no cigar.
Well, Allan said that it was my own internal editor that prevented my stories from being accepted. My own doubts, my own lack of confidence etc.
And, by then, I had stopped writing fiction, and I stopped sending stories out.
My Story-Writing Past
Okay, while I was going through boxes on Jacqueline's second floor, I came across some of these stories. Most I had totally forgotten about. I was amazed at how good some of them were. Not all, but some. About five stood out most of all.
I was reading one story that really had me under its spell. I had totally forgotten this story. It was a page-turner. Its title was The Shiva Priest. Abruptly, to my dismay, the last couple of pages were missing. I had to know the ending. I hunted for those last few pages and didn't find them. I am still avid to know what happened next and how the story ended.
To my surprise, I saw that one of the stories I had written verged on futuristic fiction. This story is called The Last Smoker in the World.
There were two stories that begin with the same situation. They are entitled The Horse Race 1 and The Horse Race 2. The same main male character, a jockey, stars in both stories. Each story, however, has a different femaile character, and, therefore, despite the same situation, each story is a different story. In rereading these stories, I think there should be a third story with an entirely different female character, and, therefore, a third entirely different story.
These particular stories and some others as well are told from the point of view of one character and then from the point of view of another character.
Speaking About Internal Editors
Within the past year, two short stories came upon me. I say came upon me because they kind of wrote themselves. That isn't to say that I didn't rewrite. I did rewrite, but the ideas for the stories came spontaneously, not from any decision of mine. I wasn't thinking about writing a story nor was I desiring to write a story so far as I knew.
These two stories have long been ready to go out to seek their fortune. I decided on The New Yorker which is probably the hardest of all magazines to get accepted by. They publish well-known authors. They do publish unknown authors from time to time, but, truly, the odds are against it. Meanwhile, for months, I haven't sent the stories out, not even one.
It appears that my internal editor is defeated, not even allowing my stories the chance of being rejected. Ouch. On the other hand, these stories do not carry the depth of one Heavenletter. They are just stories.
I'm thinking it might make more sense to tackle a less prestigious magazine. Also, I must throw out the word tackle and choose a more friendly expression, such as send out!
Tomorrow I will tell you two more related things I remember that Allan told me, and, then, that's that.