It was a great idea for a story. Having dealt with the loss of my mother and some life changes, I thought, "Hey, this would make a great overcomer story!" Fictionalized of course. Didn't think I could handle making things too personal. Some emotions just weren't meant for re-visiting.
So on I went, typing away on my very first laptop, dreaming of the overnight sensation I'd become. I completed a draft, did some editing and thought, "Alright world! Here comes my story."
Then reality hit...
Here's what happened: I called myself entering my story, then titled When Pebbles Fall, into a writing contest. Sent it in, cheesy grin on my face because my story was AWESOME! No one could tell me different...
The judges ripped my story into teeny, tiny pieces with their critiques. By the time I finished reading their responses, my ego was little more than confetti. I even thought of halting my writing altogether. Instead, I took some time to take in what they shared. I'm glad I did. Sadly, they were spot on. I'd distanced myself too much and it was evident in the story. I lacked real transitions. My point of view (POV) sucked, truly. I couldn't keep it in one person's view very well. They gave me decent marks for content, but not so much on the delivery. I had to own the very weak job I'd done editing and realize there was more to this writing thing than just having an idea.
Since that time, so many years ago, I've done some growing up. I've learned that two, three or four sets of eyes beat my own hands down. Being humble and asking for help from those you know and trust isn't all that scary. Plus, more writers than we know took several years to become overnight sensations. So I continue on this pursuit of publishness, inviting followers of this blog to share their input on all things reading and writing.