WHO CAN SAY WHERE THE ROAD GOES

Who Can Say Where the Road Goes

          As I reflect upon my writing journey, I’ve come to appreciate that no single decision I made during the past four years led in a straight line to where I now find myself.  I suppose it would have been a good idea to travel in a straight line.  But that is not the way I’ve traveled, for I am a writing pilgrim, and my pilgrimage has been wandering and unmarked.  Often what looked like a straight line to me at the time was a circling or doubling back.  I peeked down some roads and took a few steps then turned back.  Sometimes I followed some roads that came to a dead end and occasionally got lost on roads with too many intersections.  Often I have not known where I was going until I was already there.  And in looking back, I can’t shake off the feeling that I’ve been led somehow.  I believe all roads were connected to other roads, and I’ve come to trust in those connections. 

            That being said, I’d like to share with you the insights and tips that have worked for me as I’ve made my writing pilgrimage.    

Choosing Contests:

            When I began writing, I had limited funds.  Necessity led me to these two sites:  www.fundsforwriters.com and www.duotrope.com.  Both sites offer free versions of contest listings.  After a few months, though, I decided to spend a little money to obtain the full benefit of their complete listings.  I receive regular emails listing contests by category, i.e., poetry, fiction, non-fiction, and memoir.  Most of their listings include a link to the contest’s website, its theme, entry fee, prizes, judges, judging criteria, etc. 

            I also purchased the book, Writing to Win: The Colossal Guide to Writing Contests by Moira Allen.  Her book breaks down competitions by category.  Within each category she lists ongoing competitions as well as competitions by month.  Her listings include important information like the contest’s website, entry fees, prizes, submission guides, and judging criteria. 

            I search these three sources for contests with a topic or theme I think I can write about.  I want to stretch my skill as a writer, so I don’t narrow my parameters.  But on the other hand, I don’t over reach (like submitting a piece to The New Yorker). 

            I focus on contests with no entry fees or nominal entry fees.  While there are plenty of contests in which a writer can pay a substantial entry fee, many contests are free and offer the same benefits as the ones in which a writer pays.  Entering contests, especially no-fee contests, is a win-win for me (or any writer).  

Important Considerations:

Once I’ve chosen a likely contest, I examine its reputation and legitimacy.  Whether surfing the web or calling the editor, I get answers to some critical questions:

Who are the judges?  Are they professional writers or publishers?  What experience do they bring to the table? 

How high is the entry fee?  Most contests rely on the sale of anthologies, etc., to pay for expenses.  Some, though, subsidize their prize with an entry fee.  So my rule of thumb is for manuscripts under 10,000 words, the entry fee should be less than $15.  There are exceptions to this rule, however.  For instance, if the cash prize is proportionate to the entry fee, then I’ll go ahead and submit.

What is the prize?  Is there a cash prize?  Will it be paid within a reasonable amount of time?  In lieu of cash, will I receive contributor copies?  Will I receive a critique as an entry prize?  If so, I take that advice and improve my writing.  That critique is priceless.

Who are the past winners?  Unless the contest is new, I try to access a list of past winners.  Most legitimate contest websites will list previous winners.  I know writers who try to contact previous winners and ask about their experience with the contest.  I’ve never done that, though.  

What rights are requested?  I never give up the right to my material simply by submitting my work.  Some of my manuscripts have won contests, and I’ve been asked to license certain rights—such as the right to publish the work in an anthology or on a web site.  But, I’ve never give up all rights to my work. 

Submissions:

I want my manuscript to represent my best effort so I allot sufficient time to write my entry.  I build in time to create, read, re-read, re-draft, then polish by entry.  I also prefer submitting at least a week before a contest deadline.   

I carefully read the contest guidelines and stick to them.  For instance, if the guidelines say no more than 1,200 words, I make sure my manuscript doesn’t exceed the word count.  I check the guidelines for formatting instructions (font, spacing, margins, etc.) and format my manuscript accordingly.  Funky fonts get you nowhere with an editor. 

 Value of Entering Contests:

            Contests force me to stretch myself.  Additionally contests enable me to meet deadlines and word counts, try new genres, and write about new or unusual themes.             
             Even if my work isn’t selected, I know I’ve developed my skills and my voice.  Every time I click the submit button or place a manuscript in the mail, I know I’ve furthered my career, tapped into my creativity, and given purpose to my life.  Stories and words were meant to be shared.  If I don’t submit, I feel as if I’m hoarding my creativity and not giving the Universe a chance to share those words with readers who need them.  Essentially, whether my work is selected or not, I still feel like a winner.  

Measuring Success: 

I attribute my success to my willingness to learn and re-learn the writing craft.  Commitment and focus have certainly played a part in my success.  Patience and gratitude have gone a long way in establishing my intention.  Much of my success comes from building relationships with editors, publishers, and other writers who support me, educate me, and nurture me.  Likewise, writing organizations provide me with structure, strength, and a positive lifeline into the literary world.  My husband is also an integral part of my success.  He dedicates his time, energy, love, and encouragement.  I’m fortunate that he’s willing to make the writing journey with me.  

Let’s Be Honest

When I sit down to write I often don’t know exactly what I’m to write or where I’m going on my writing journey.  But I’ve come to love and appreciate the ambiguity and the not knowing.   Somewhere between the ambiguity and the not knowing is where a writer’s real journey begins.  So, I don’t concern myself with the destination.  In that sense, writing is an act of faith, and who I am to say where the road goes.  In writer’s terms, it’s our story that matters—not the ending.    

THE WINGS OF CREATIVTY

THE WINGS OF CREATIVITY

In 2010 my mother-in-law gave me this rather simple but graceful, antique secretarial desk.  I was delighted to have it; and for four years now, I’ve cherished this nostalgic piece, for it both served and inspired me as I began my writing journey. 

The antique desk was comfortable, and I felt so cozy when I began each writing session. Although I quickly outgrew the desk, I was unwilling to give it up and acquire a larger desk.  Despite the desk’s comfort and coziness, its limited storage capacity meant that I often scattered file folders and books on the floor around me.  But I crave organization and closure.  So after each writing session I painstakingly gathered up the scattered tools of the trade and placed them in the desk's drawers until the next writing session.  And because I’m also a creature of habit and routine, I repeated this process hundreds of times—much like a batter who comes to home plate and repeats a similar process each time he prepares to swing at the first pitch.    

I accepted this process as the way I entered into and exited my writing mode.  Subconsciously, I convinced myself that the desk and the rhythm of my routine were my lucky charms and that I somehow needed them in order to continue to be successful. 

Now fast forward to the summer of 2014.  My husband, Bill, and I moved into a new home.  While unpacking, he offered—on more than one occasion—to buy me a new desk.  But much to his dismay, I ignored his offers—like the day we stopped at Staples to shop for office supplies. 

Bill escorted me to the back of the Staples showroom where he’d found what he thought was THE perfect desk for me.  “I want to buy this for you, Sweetie.  My writer needs a bigger desk.”  He hugged me.  “You know you deserve it.”

“But I don’t want a bigger desk!”  I turned and walked away.  “I like my little desk.” 

“I don’t understand.  Why don’t you want a bigger desk?”  He scurried to my side.  “You must be afraid of something?  What is it?  You can tell me.” 

“Whatever do you mean?  I’m not afraid of anything.  What makes you say that?”  I folded my arms across my chest and looked him straight in the eyes.  “Like I said, I really like my little desk.  I’m satisfied with it; it inspires me.  Besides, we just moved; I’ve experienced enough change.  Changing to a bigger desk will just mess with my writing mojo.  So don’t ask me again!”  

And he didn’t ask me again.  Then a few days later while working in my new office (Yes, moving meant that I acquired my own office.), I looked around at the folders, books, and papers strewn all over my office floor.  I riffled through several stacks and couldn’t find what I needed to meet a contest deadline.  My heart raced, and beads of sweat appeared on my forehead—the telltale signs that I’ve allowed panic and fear to take hold.  I leaned back in my chair, took a deep breath, and looked around my office.  The room literally swallowed the tiny desk making it look a wee bit insignificant and slightly out of place.  Hmmm.  Maybe I do need a bigger desk.  But the idea of graduating to a bigger desk sent tiny shock waves through my brain.  So perhaps Bill was right.  Was I afraid of something?  If so, what was it?    

Unable to continue writing, I closed my laptop; stood up; and paced around the room.  I looked around and focused my attention on the certificates, awards, and checks that I’d framed and hung on the wall.  When I began writing, I never imagined the success that now stared back at me.  Each represented either an exciting moment or a significant step forward in my writing career.  I was both thrilled and content with the level of success I’d achieved. 

I closed my eyes and relived the vulnerability and fear I sometimes felt as a new writer.  Often when I sat down to write, I didn’t know exactly what I was going to write or where I was going on my writing journey.  But during the past four years, I trained myself to love both the ambiguity and the not knowing. 

I smiled, returned to my chair, and retrieved C. Joy Bell C’s book of poetry, All Things Dance Like Dragonflies, from the bookshelf.  I flipped through its pages, and her words about faith jumped off the page into my heart. 

“I have come to accept the feeling of not knowing where I am going. And I have trained myself to love it. Because it is only when we are suspended in mid-air with no landing in sight, that we force our wings to unravel and alas begin our flight. And as we fly, we still may not know where we are going to. But the miracle is in the unfolding of the wings. You may not know where you're going, but you know that so long as you spread your wings, the winds will carry you.”

At that moment I recognized that a bigger desk symbolized bigger projects, bigger dreams, more challenging contests, and being once again suspended in mid-air with no landing in sight.  Bill was right, of course.  I was afraid—afraid to force my complacent writing wings to once more unravel and begin a new flight.  C. Joy Bell C’s words helped me grasp at a deeper level that once I spread my wings anew, I could trust that the winds of creativity would carry me further where I need to go. 

Two days ago my new desk arrived.  And, yes, my wings already feel stronger!