The Final Rose

I'm not the kind of writer who enters a lot of short story or novel contests. It's not because I'm afraid of losing, but I hate waiting months and months to hear if I've won. So I was certainly acting out of character when, a few weeks ago I stumbled upon a contest in a wonderful blog called: On the Tudor Trail.

I was in the midst of researching the plot of a short story that's been brewing inside of me for years. The title came first The Final Rose and it was about the final rose of the season. They're quite common here in southern Ontario. One hardy rose, covered in snow, in full resplendent bloom, clinging to its stem. Of course there was going to be a supernatural element in the story, but it just wasn't revealing itself. So, The Final Rose sat on the back burner for many years waiting to be written.

In the middle of October, thoughts of Halloween stories began to percolate. The members of my writer's circle usually bring spooky, strange or twisted tales to read on the last meeting of October. I could not disappoint my fellow writers and time was running out. I thought about my unwritten tale of the rose and, perhaps it was all the grand celebrations of Elizabeth II's Diamond Jubilee that led me down the path of the Tudors.

The story fell into place quickly, but the research took a little longer. That's when I discovered On the Tudor Trail blog and the Tudor Ghost Story Contest. Not only would I have a short story to read at the writer's circle, I would enter the contest on its final day, October 31. My colleagues enjoyed my tale and gave me some valuable advice, which I incorporated before emailing the story to the contest.

I didn't have to wait long for news of the status of my story. On November 12, Natalie, the blog's moderator, emailed me to say that I had won second prize and my story would be published at On the Tudor Trail. What a thrill seeing my story in print. Congrats are still coming in from friends and family, and it has been the highlight of a difficult year.

There is a final rose in my garden this year. A large, red, floribunda variety, spreading its petals towards the sun. Soon, snow will veil the crimson blossom and wind will scatter the petals and all memory of that hardy flower.

I'm rather sorry The Final Rose has been written and found some success. I suppose I'll have to pull out my 'idea file' and look for another plot that will take me on a journey to another place and time.

Hotdogs and Fireworks

The May 24th Victoria Day long weekend has finally arrived. This is the first holiday weekend of the year when Canadians can run around outside wearing shorts and T-shirts. It's time to take the cover off the air conditioner and clean the barbecue grill. Last night's fireworks were noisy and colourful and they went on a little too long. At least, I think 1:00 a.m. is too long and so did poor Little Bear who is terrified of anything that goes BANG! She does love playing in the sprinkler and it's a great way to keep her clean. No bathtub for this dog. The first time we tried to put her in the tub, she made a huge fuss. I was afraid the neighbours would think we were killing her, so no more indoor baths. In the winter she rolls around in the snow and during the hot months she plays with the hose or sprinkler.

I'm afraid my writing has taken the back burner for the past month. My bout of pneumonia took a long time to heal, partly because my doctor misdiagnosed me and the first week of meds didn't help at all. I have a little more energy now, just in time to start planting flowers, herbs and vegetables. There's a payoff to all the hard work. During the summer I love to sit outside on the deck and edit my manuscript while glancing up occasionally to admire the garden.

Since I haven't written for the past month, I'm reluctant to get back into my manuscript and I'm not far enough along to just pick up the pieces and continue. I've completed the prologue and two chapters, about fifty pages, and I'm ready to introduce the antagonist. This person is not bad, in fact, the protagonist is rather evil in his own curious way. The antagonist is a good cop with personal problems that make him vulnerable to the main character's wants and needs.

I spent most of last evening reviewing my first draft chapters. It's surprising how the characters are already taking on distinctive personalities and telling me what they should say and do. Of course I listen to them and follow through. Although I write long, detailed outlines, my finished novels rarely resemble the original concepts. I think this novel may be the exception. The outline has been sitting in a drawer since 1993. I've pulled it out once every year, hoping it would speak to me, but it wasn't until last December that I felt I was ready to tackle the four-book series. Details that had eluded me until now began to emerge. Characters, who had been bit players in the outline, have miraculously developed temperaments and egos. If I'm lucky, the novel might write itself. 

My Journey Thus Far

I've been writing for about twenty years and publishing short stories in anthologies and best selling women's magazines for a about fifteen years. Like most writers, I have a few mediocre unfinished novels gathering dust in the closet. More about them another day. Queries for my current novel have been making the rounds to literary agents for a couple of months. Since this is a Canadian novel, I have concentrated my search on agents in Canada and the United Kingdom. I had a hit the other day from an agent in Montreal. He emailed to say my novel sounded interesting and would I send a few chapters for him to read. I wasn't sure what he meant by the first few chapters, especially since my query had included the first chapter and a brief synopsis in the body of the message. Most agents ask for fifty pages so I felt that was a good number to send.

I'm feeling lucky, crossing my fingers and toes that this is the right agent for me. I'm quite used to rejection letters. They don't bother me anymore. I realise that agents are extremely busy people and marketing a new writer to publishing houses isn't easy. What I hate is the way some agents don't bother to reply if they aren't interested in manuscripts. Even a rejection form is better than not hearing back. The rudest rejection I received for a novel query happened about ten years ago. I opened my self-addressed-stamped-envelope and saw my query letter with 'NOT FOR ME' written across the page. I've heard worse stories from other authors, but I still think if that agent took the time to write a reply he could have used a kinder tone.

Currently I have two short stories being considered by magazine editors. One at Woman's World in the U.S. and the other at Woman's Weekly in England. They're tough markets to crack, but once you get a few rejections under your belt and an editor sees promise in your writing, they'll make suggestions and invite you to resubmit revised manuscripts. It takes months to hear back, mostly because editing departments have had to cut corners and reduce staff. I used to hear back after one month, but now it takes four to six months. It sucks if they reject your story, because this is one market that I don't send to multiple magazine editors. I am, what is called, a Regular Contributor to several magazines, but it doesn't matter how many times your work has been published. Each time I receive my contributor's copy and see my byline above or below the story I'm thrilled.

I'm going to attend my writing circle tonight with a few pages to read aloud from my novel in progress. I've been a member of the same group since 1994 and I can't imagine submitting work to editors or agents unless my trusted colleagues have critiqued my work. We usually head off to the nearest pub afterwards to discuss books and movies. Lately the drinking crowd hasn't been joining us and we've switched venues to the nearest coffee shop. Hopefully when the weather is warmer, we'll return to our favourite haunt and sit outside where we can enjoy the sounds of birds and the gentle breezes from the lake.