First Credit

The first job I was paid for was a fluke – as I’m sure is the experience of most writers. I was trawling for contests and open calls on the internet when I came upon an open call for stories of true hauntings. I was – of course – instantly intrigued, and not only had I harboured a great interest in the theme since childhood, but also inclusion in an anthology would give me the recognition I deserved. Of course one always believes they deserve recognition.

I went to work on my brilliant story with the fervor I often experienced when working on open call work. Something was different this time though. Instead of writing to fulfill the quest for the proverbial brass ring, I decided to just write. Though I of course wanted the publishing credit and to be truthful the fifty dollars that accompanied, I was tired of trying too hard and tired of constant rejection. I longed for the days when writing was a fun hobby that I worked on for pleasure and not for hope. So I decided to just write for the sake of writing. If they didn’t enjoy my submission, at least I would have enjoyed the process.

I did – as I said – work with the open call fervor, scribbling down words, (which came much easier in a story about myself), and desperately tried to recall the details of the events. After all it had been six years since the actual incident took place, and though eerie at the time, moving away from the apartment had help fade the memories.

After I completed the story my nervousness returned. I work as a teacher in an adult school, and if you ask me to edit independent studies, any essay or eliminate horrific clichés – I’m your man. If I have to edit my own work, for some reason my eyes cross, my mind goes blank, and the words dance on the page. So I read over the entire story to make sure it indeed made sense and decided to let it stand-alone. I had read many years ago that when Shirley Jackson wrote “The Lottery”, she wrote one draft and sent it off. I obviously cannot compare myself with Shirley Jackson, and have no idea in what stage of her career she was in when she penned “The Lottery”, but I always had admired her courage in doing so.

With story written, (and typed of course), I sent it off to the editor of the anthology. I received a reply in what seemed like no time at all. Sadly I was disappointed when I read that I had missed the deadline and was mistaken by the deadline of a new project they were working on. That I chalked up to poor web design, of course unwilling to accept the blame. At the bottom of their reply, they stated that they would keep my story on file and contact me if it fit any future projects. I actually laughed out lout, (lol for those of the digital age), and filed the e-mail away.

The incident, and frankly the story itself soon were pushed out of my mind by the trivialities of life as it carried on. The cycle returned to searching out contests and open calls. Inevitably being drawn into the contest scams and the peaks and valleys of hope and rejection. The rejection returned until the day I received another e-mail from the anthology editor. He stated that my story had been selected to appear in their next anthology, and had attached some contracts for me to sign and return. Elated, I did so.

I was a writer now published and paid. All from a story I didn’t try to write and I had long forgotten about. I guess my best advice is – don’t try to write, let yourself write.