SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK
I’ve never
been a competitive person. You’ve heard of the Class A personality? I’m more
like a Class C.
In fact, I
almost didn’t enter a contest that was in theory right up my alley, just
because I found the name particularly intimidating: So You Think You Can Write.
I felt like
Harlequin’s novel writing contest was sneering at me: “So … you think you can
write, eh? I’ll chew you up like paper and spit you out like ink!”
Worse, it
required me to do more of that thing I’ve never much liked to do: Sell myself.
In the first phase of the SYTYCW contest (hey, I didn’t name it), authors
submit the first chapter and a 100 word synopsis of their novel, and readers
vote on which of the chapter ones they like the best.
Self-promotion
time again, only “Look at me, look at me”, becomes “Vote for me!” But, hey –
competing and promoting are part of the writer’s job, these days. That being
the case, here’s the internet link to my particular entry, which will be open
for voting from October 2nd until October 11th:
(You can,
and most certainly should, look at a bunch of entries and pick the best one.
But I’m okay with you only looking at mine.)
That’s a
lot to type, but do it for me. Or for community pride. Or for a jug of whiskey
like in the old time elections – whatever works. It’s also a chance to take a
look at the first chapter of my unpublished novel, Coming Attractions, which like my published stories takes place in
northeast Indiana.
Just for
fun here’s the synopsis I wrote. You want to talk challenges? Try reducing a
60,000 word manuscript to a hundred words:
Maddie McKinley’s mission to a small
Indiana drive-in theater is derailed when she climbs into the wrong van at the
dark theater, only to be tackled by the father of two young children inside.
Although embarrassed about roughing her up, Logan Chandler is also intrigued by
the beautiful young Bostonian, who arrived alone at the movies wearing an
expensive dress.
Maddie falls for the Chandler family
and their little town, but her job is on the line: Logan’s leading a battle to
save the business from developers – and she’s the attorney sent to shut it
down.
It’s a
romantic comedy. No, it’s funny, really.
After all
these years I’m fairly confident in my writing ability, but I don’t have much
confidence in my ability to win contests. I was that person in gym class who
hid under the bleachers, so I wouldn’t have to lose gracefully. In high school
I finally got up the courage to run for student council, only to come in ninth
… out of eight candidates.
On our
volunteer fire department I ran for captain, but only got four votes for corporal.
And we don’t have corporals. Apparently I was given a bit of corporal
punishment.
Finally I
did win two elections for the Albion Town Council, but only because I promised
the voters to put a weatherproof plastic dome over the town. It turns out I was
being just a bit optimistic on both cost and feasibility matters. Still, I only
lost the next election by six votes after promising never to send troops into Churubusco.
(Little historical inside joke, there. Vote for me and I’ll explain it to you.)
It’s a
spotty record at best, but this time I have to dig in and actually try to win,
which is something I probably should have thought to try before. It would have
made dodgeball way less painful. You see, it’s almost impossible to get your
book published if you don’t send it out into the cold, cruel world of
publishing.
So, for the week of October 2nd
through October 11th, everyone can go to the contest’s website and
vote for their choice – not just once, but once every day. (Okay, it’s actually
ten days, not a week – I write because I hate math.)
If I get
into the top 25, my manuscript will be one of, I’m guessing, 25 or so that will
be judged by the Harlequin editors. (I say “or so”, because they’ll choose
three wild card submissions.) If I make it to the top three … well, I don’t see
the point of looking that far into the future, considering I once ran a
marathon and posted a worse time than a guy who had a heart attack halfway
through.
I should
have stopped to help, but didn’t want to come in last. How was I to know I
would anyway, when he hobbled to his feet and ran past me to the ambulance?
Maybe I should rethink that Good Samaritan thing … I’ll bet a good round of CPR
would have bought his vote.
