Nightmares and Nameless Fears

Poetry is not my strong suit, generally speaking. Oh, I have some limited ability (my high school English teacher, Mr. Hoffman, once expressed a high opinion of one piece in particular that I wrote as part of his class), but it's definitely not my strong suit. I'll spend more time on one short poem than it takes me to write several pages of a story. That being said, sometimes a writer needs to step outside of their comfort zone, whether for fun, for the challenge, for the sake of variety, or just because the opportunity presents itself.

I think when I saw the notice calling for submissions for the Poetry Institute of Canada's 13th annual poetry contest pinned to the wall beside the staff mail boxes at my work, the decision to give it a shot stemmed largely from a combination of the challenge and the opportunity. After all, what have you got to lose? I'd encourage any aspiring writer to not only send their works out to publishers, but take advantage of any reputable contest or similar event that allows you to practice and showcase your abilities.

So it was that I sat there at my desk, labouring over this much more difficult (for me) style of writing. What eventually took shape was a poem that would fit quite nicely in with my short stories, a piece entitled "Nightmares and Nameless Fears". All in all, I was quite proud of how it turned out, though I'm still awaiting the results of the contest. Perhaps "Nightmares and Nameless Fears" will find itself in the selected poems for the Institute's anthology, perhaps not. Either way, the very fact that I took the chance and wrote it was rewarding in and of itself. As an added bonus, many publishers want to know if you've had any other works published (which sometimes feels a lot like being asked if you have any experience at your first job interview, quite frankly). They'll give due consideration to the fact that someone else has already seen merit in your writing. Besides, although writing contests and the like might not earn you much, if anything, in monetary compensation, it's always a great feeling to see your work in print. And you shouldn't be writing for the sake of making money (though that's certainly a plus) - write because you love to write.

For that matter, whatever you choose to do in life, do it because you love and enjoy it. Those are the things you will most often find you excel at... and you'll be happier for doing them, too.

Skin Deep - A Work In Progress

So I admit, after being rejected on "In the Darkness", I was disappointed. Sure, I understood the reasons it was rejected, even agreed with them, but it was still discouraging. At first I denied being upset about it (after all, I knew it wasn't the kind of writing I was capable of, so why feel bad that the editors at On Spec felt the same way about it that I did, right?), but rejection is rejection. For a couple of months, I found excuses not to write. I was busy, I didn't have any really good ideas, the list of excuses dragged out.

Fear of rejection is among the greatest enemies a prospective writer has to face. Self doubt following rejection comes in a close second, and can sometimes be much harder to overcome. It only takes a moment of courage to drop your story in the mail, and then it's out of your hands... self doubt can catch up to you at any time.

Not writing began to have a toll on me, though. After years of not putting my ideas into words on paper (or on disk, as it were), now that I'd written one story, I wanted to write more. Imagination and creativity are like a river - once they start flowing, it's not such an easy thing to stop them up again. I became irritable, moody, and downright miserable, until my wife finally coaxed out of me the reason (a reason that I had, quite frankly, avoided acknowledging even to myself - in addition to writing, my other "talents" include a phenomenal ability to bottle things up so deep that even I don't know what I'm really feeling at times). Once the truth came out that I really was discouraged by my first rejection letter, however, I was able to move on. I did the only thing any writer can do when they get rejected.

I started writing another story.

Without divulging too much at such an early stage of the process, the new story is entitled "Skin Deep", and is more in keeping with the kind of stories that I like to both read and write. Whether it will fare better than "In the Darkness" remains to be seen, but the point is that I continue to write, and that this time I'm writing the kind of story I want to write. At least if this one gets rejected, it will be on the merits and flaws of my own style, not what I perceive to be popular or desirable to publishers. One thing I've found is that by writing in the manner and style that comes naturally to me, "Skin Deep" flows out of my mind and onto the computer screen, whereas "In the Darkness" tended to come in big sticky globs of text, with large gaps in between when no writing occurred because I had to really think to myself "Where was I going with this, again?"

Writers get rejected. It's a fact of life that many more things will be written than will ever see publication. My advice is this: take the rejection letters, put them in a folder, or a shoe box, or pin them to your bulletin board in your room. Each one of them represents a moment of courage, where you put your creative work out there to face the scutiny and criticism of publishers who no doubt see entire truckloads of manuscripts every year. Take pride in knowing you took the shot... then pick up your pen and paper, dust off the keyboard, and start writing your next story. Try another publisher with the other story, too, while you're at it - each publisher has his or her own criteria, preferences, and interests. What one of them rejects, the other might be eager to put into print.

The bottom line is this: There's always another story to be told... and every story is worth telling, published or not.

In the Darkness... a reason to trust your instincts

The first story I actually completed was entitled "In the Darkness", which has been submitted already to one Canadian magazine (On Spec). At around the same time I was working on this story (and waiting for a response from On Spec magazine), I had a number of other stories floating around in my head, on my computer, and on paper, most of which I have still not finished. I now have a better understanding of where all those fragments of unfinished works that always seem to surface when an author passes away come from. How many stories go unfinished because the author set them aside, forget them, or simply didn't pursue them any further? And how many of those stories were later found by some relative amidst the author's belongings? Some of those stories no doubt make it into publication long after the author's passing, either in their incomplete form or completed at the hands of a relation or other "ghost writer".

At any rate, "In the Darkness" was the first story I completed since returning to my writing desk (which has evolved into a computer desk... my noisy old word processor has been replaced by a laptop, the giant three ring binders of paper supplanted by a USB drive that is smaller than my thumb; technology can be a blessing for a writer, though I admit at times I resort to the use of pen and notebook, simply for the enjoyment I get from writing stories out by hand!). I was immediately unhappy with the story; I felt it was "too commercial" and in some ways seemed like a timid approach to begin my return to writing with.

The original concept was very much my own, and hints of my personal writing style (inspired by my favorite horror writers) remained, but the general feel and nature of the story shifted. I compromised a great deal to make the story something I imagined the market of today would want, creating a story that had all those aspects that seemed to dominate the horror genre of this day and age: a group of teenaged imbeciles break into a creepy old house and meet a terrible fate at the clutches of some nameless horror that dwells within. I love that house and its nameless, lurking horror - they were the only part of the original story concept to survive at all, and the madness and death they unleashed upon my stereotypical protagonists was actually cathartic for me. At any rate, my wife and friends liked the story very much, and I decided to mail it off all the same, despite my misgivings.

I waited quite a while to hear back, which is not uncommon. I moved on to other stories, but couldn't concentrate on them for more than a few pages, wondering what the response to "In the Darkness" would be. In due time, the eagerly awaited and equally dreaded response arrived. My wife intercepted it, and admitted to me that she considered hiding it from me when she read the response.

The magazine editor didn't like it. It was, to paraphrase, too typical. An unoriginal story about a group of teenagers who went into a haunted house and met with terrible ends.

I didn't know if I wanted to laugh or cry. I'd twisted my story into a popular culture motif under the misguided belief that to get started I had to write what I thought the status quo would want. I had compromised my own style and preferences, written something that I myself would never choose to read, believing that it was better to get my name out there before trying to market the kinds of stories I would prefer to write. After all, my literary idol, H. P. Lovecraft himself, had received at best mixed reviews of his decidedly untraditional tales, becoming more popular in the years since his death than when he was still alive. How many music artists had told the tale of how they had to "work with the system", sacrificing artistic integrity in order to work their way to a position where they were free to exert their own creative license?

The irony that I had written a horror story and sacrificed its unique qualities out of some obscure fear of rejection only to have the publisher reject it on those very grounds was not lost on me. I couldn't very well take offense to the rejection letter: I hated the story for the very same reasons that the publisher sited. I'd earned that first rejection letter.

I think I may have since thrown it out, a decision I now regret. It may be tucked on a shelf or in a drawer somewhere. I rather hope it is, because if I ever find it again I plan to pin it up on my wall above my desk. It symbolizes the first attempt of mine to return to writing. It also serves as a reminder that writers, especially those who write horror, fantasy, science fiction, and their many permutations, should above all be bold, and not afraid to step outside the lines of conformity.

I still have copies of "In the Darkness", and will be likely mailing out at least one more copy as it currently exists to a different magazine, just to see the response. I may revise it, return it to the story it was meant to be and leave the hapless teen protagonists to the tender mercies of Freddy Krueger, Jason Voorhayes and Michael Meyers. I may simply keep it as a momento of my attempt at conformity - perhaps one day it will be valued as an ironic piece from my "early works". The house, with its lurking, nameless horror, still stands, and still hungers for its tale to be told. It has not yet seen its full potential achieved, and like any story it will not rest easily until its tale is told in full, as it was meant to be. That house has a lesson to teach, and not the well trodden lesson of "teenagers who do things they shouldn't be doing will come to a bad end", either.

The house's lesson, to me and to any other aspiring writer who'd care to listen, is to not be afraid of your own voice. Write the stories you want to write, the way you want to write them, not the way you think someone else might expect you to write them, and certainly not the way you think a publisher, a teacher, or a reader would want it to be written. If those people wanted those sorts of stories, they would simply write them for themselves. Only you can write your stories, however, and only you can give the world that unique perspective, that singular tale spawned by your own imagination, experiences, and creative gifts.

My next story is in the style and nature that I prefer to write in, a style which flows more naturally from me, so that the story almost writes itself at times. Your stories will flourish if you allow yourself to be who you are, and don't fear the response of publishers or other critics. As long as you allow yourself to write the way you feel suits you best, at least those who read your stories will have the opportunity to accept, reject, praise, or criticize you based on the kind of material you enjoy writing. Not everyone will like it. Maybe only a few will; but at least you'll be one of them.

Each of us has an "old house" inside us, waiting for its story to be told. That house has been there for a long time. It has the patience to wait until you're ready to tell its tale the way it was meant to be told.

Writing in Shadows

What do I mean when I call this blog "Writing in Shadows"?

I suppose two things come to mind, the first and most obvious being that my preferred style and genre of writing lends itself to horror and dark fantasy/speculative fiction. Inspired by authors such as H. P. Lovecraft, Bentley Little, Robert Bloch, Ramsey Campbell, and Clark Ashton Smith, I suppose it's only natural for my own writing to follow a similar tone. When I was younger, I had a great love for fantasy fiction (and still do), and the stories I would write at my desk as a young boy were more of that nature - noble heroes, magical events, and feats of grandiose heroism. Yet somehow my true interest, my true "talent" (though I am reluctant to use such a word to describe myself, for who am I to judge?) lay with darker stories, whether grim tales of horror or the grittier, darker style of fantasy and science fiction.

The second reason I chose to name this blog "Writing in Shadows" is because I am only just now returning to writing after many long years during which I simply couldn't find the time for it. That isn't to say, necessarily, that the time wasn't there (one can always make time to do the things we feel are important, after all), but that I was so preoccupied with dealing with those mundane tasks that enable us to get by in our daily lives - earning a pay cheque, paying the bills, making sure there was food in the fridge, etc. - that I simply couldn't find it within myself to take the time to write. First I would restrict my writing to the bus ride to work (when there was little else to do), then to just jotting down ideas that never were expanded upon. Eventually I stopped writing entirely, encouraged (if you want to call it that) by the sentiment that one cannot make a living writing stories.

That may be true, but I have now found myself at a point in my life where I am making a living, and happily married to a wonderful woman (Kelly), who upon learning that I used to write stories has gone to great lengths to coax and nurture that interest and "talent" (again that word that makes me feel rather immodest when I apply it to myself). Ironically, with so much more going on in my life than ever before (married life, a career rather than a mere job), I find that now I have the time to write, which begs the question why I couldn't find the time for it before.

I digress, however; "Writing in Shadows" was the name I chose for this blog you are reading because in addition to my penchant for grim tales best read at night by a single lamp in an otherwise darkened house, this blog is about finding my way "back" to that place within myself where I used to draw my writing from. It was a part of me that was left behind, under the mistaken notion that it had no place in my adult life. My wife has helped me realize that isn't the case, and so now I hope to "find my writing", in a manner of speaking - dig it out of that shadowy corner of the attic, dust it off, and see what comes from it.

So enjoy the read - and if you take nothing else away from this, I hope that other aspiring writers will take with them the lesson that you shouldn't stop writing just because you can't make a living at it. For one thing, there are those out there who can make a living at it, but even those who can't still have stories worth telling. The publishing world is very hard to break into - there are countless writers, each wanting their story told, their tale published, and sometimes even the good ones never see print. Don't let anyone discourage you from making the effort, however - the only thing to be afraid of when sending your work to a magazine or publisher is that you don't know what their response will be.

H. P. Lovecraft once wrote "The oldest and greatest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and greatest fear is fear of the unknown." It's always worthwhile to try, to see what the publishers and critics will say. The first one might say "no, thank you", perhaps not in quite so kindly of a phrase; the next one hundred might say the same.

It only takes one of them to say "yes, we love your story and would like to publish it", and if you never let them see it, they'll never get the chance.