Every writer dreads that first rejection letter.  I dreaded for it so long I was actually scared to send my work out.  What if I wasn't good enough?  What if they said I should just give up?  What if the editors and publishers were all sitting around laughing about the horrendous piece of wanna be fiction I sent into them?  I didn't even want to send my work into a contest because I was terrified of the embarrassment of not winning.  I let my fear of rejection hold me back.  I've been writing for a long, long time, but only just recently have I started submitting my work to competitions, or online Zines.  Only recently have I started reaching out to online magazines, blogs, and other such things and saying, "Hey I'd like to do that!"

Some of them didn't get back to me, and some of them did.  Most recently I've joined as a regular contributor to Searching For Superwomen: Geek Girls Getting Loud.  The people over there are superbly spectacular, so if you haven't given the site a shout, go for it.  The writers love to hear your opinion, thoughts, and otherwise awesome things.

I've only succeeded at winning one competition, which was the Kick Butt First Line Competition by Jaime Rush.  I actually won first and third place, but this was a few years ago, so my entries are no longer visible.  It was still pretty awesome.  I printed the page, pasted it in my journal, and for a brief moment, I reverted back to a giddy teenager, squealing and showing it off.

This prestigious and first time win still really wasn't enough to give me the confidence to send in a full short story.  It's one line!  Crafting and weaving a single sentence is much different than doing the same for a story.  When another competition rolled around, I believe it was for Writer's Digest, my husband said something that made me realize, that putting myself out there, wasn't the monumental embarrassing experience I thought it might be.

"They only announce the winners. They don't point out the losers and say YOU SUCK!"

I laughed, I submitted my work to a competition, and I didn't even make the top ten.  I've submitted to several competitions and never won.  I've also never had to worry about receiving a rejection letter from them. 

Even more recently, I submitted a short story to a few magazines for the first time.  While I was on vacation, I received my very first rejection letter.  It wasn't long.  It didn't offer me any pointers on how to make the piece better, but it also didn't say it was bad.  It said the story wasn't for them, and best of luck finding a home for it.  

My first rejection letter via email while on vacation.  It maybe should have been a downer, but I was really more excited about it.  I was smiling ear to ear.  My nerdy other, while always supportive of my writing and wanting to pursue this avenue, was a bit confused as to why I was so happy.  It took me a minute to realize it as well - and by minute I mean about a week because I wasn't trying to ponder this phenomenon while in the middle of getting ready to go out on another adventure during our vacation.

So, I put the rejection letter in the back of my mind, we went and continued on our vacation (a post for another time) and didn't look at it again until about two days ago.  By this time I was home, and just about caught up with everything I needed to be, and so could actually take the time to sit down and reflect on why, when looking at this rejection letter, I couldn't help but grin - even a week later.

This is the reason.  For better or worse, whether people like my writing or not - I am on the path of a writer.   Rejections are part of the writing life.  I took a chance, and honestly, I knew it was going to be rejected.  I'm not the lucky type who has things go right the first time, but that's okay.  I'm a fighter, and one rejection letter doesn't mean I suck as a writer.  It means - like many before me - I'm taking the first steps to achieving my dream.

Greetings and Salutations Nerds!

I know, I know it’s been a minute between blog posts. Things got a little busy, but fear not! I have not forgotten about thee! I’m in the middle of reviewing two books, writing my own, writing four critical analysis for my short story class, and drudging my way through my oceanography lab. You would think that would be enough for me, but come on now! I’m a multitasking nerd, and I found some awesome motivation for my story.

Now, most people have heard of NanoWrimo – at least the people I speak to online. Not everyone in my real life knows what it is because they are not absolutely obsessed with reading and writing like I am. However, what some people may not have heard of – but still have the chance to get involved with is:

DRUM ROLL PLEASE!!

JUNOWRIMO!!

JUNE NOVEL WRITING MONTH!

This is brought to you by:

Becca J.Campbell and A.E. Howard (Anna)

These two lovely ladies have personalized JunoWrimo. Now, I generally participate in NanoWrimo – but I rarely if ever finish. The truth is I’m not a big fan of the layout of their site, the mass groupings, and to me, it's just not very personal. Now don’t get me wrong, NanoWrimo is great! It motivates and prompts people to write their asses off! But, I’m more of an interactive person. I work full time, go to school full time, sleep part time, review books, write stories, and so many of the Write-Ins for NanoWrimo just don’t happen for me. (Of course that won't stop me from trying again this year.) Their motivational posts by published authors also help, but with JunoWrimo – at least to me – there’s more of a sense of community.

If you have a Twitter account I highly recommend following @JunoWrimo on twitter. There are writing sprints, word mongers, and these wonderful ladies take the time to reply back to people individually, personalizing JunoWrimo and the motivation that comes along with it. I also very much enjoy the layout of their site, and the fact that they add little prompts into the tweets for the writing sprints. They also remind you to take breaks and stretch your legs. For someone like me, who has a million and one things to do during the day, but is still pursuing my dream of becoming a writer, this is perfect. I’m meeting new people, fellow writers, and truly enjoying this experience.

My suggestion – whether you think you have the time or not – sign up at www.JunoWrimo.com You may well surprise yourself at how much you get done with the support of this fantastic community. Also if you get a moment don't forget to like them on facebook. :)

Guess who got a new job?  That’s right; this awesome nerdy girl got a new job at a fabulous place.  The people are great, the job is great, and I’m seriously using the word ‘great’ too much.  Everyone has seen a difference in my attitude since I started working at said awesome place.  (Come on you should know by now that I don’t put my jobs actual name in my blog!)  It’s much closer to home, which means I save mucho money on gas, and I do a variety of things including part of their marketing that involves social media (their blog, FB, Twitter, etc).  It’s actually a lot of fun, great experience, and the people are very patient when it comes to me learning new things about the company.   Getting out at 5pm and being home before 5:30 means I have a lot more time in the afternoon to do the things I love, like read, catch up on nerdy news, and most importantly, spend time with the most awesome husband in the world.

I’ve also finished two out of my four classes for the semester.  I’m sad the fiction writing class is over.  That was so much fun, and my professor was just excellent.  I think sometimes the people who hate creative writing class take it as the be all end all based on what the professor teachers instead of keeping an open mind, seeing things from a different view point, and being able to add things to their writing.  Creative writing classes and workshops are excellent in my opinion.  You can’t break the rules until you know the rules.

I’m getting off track though.  I’ve finished two of four of my classes.  I’m losing my 4.0, but I’d rather be challenged and learn than go through school in a breeze.  Maybe I’m just weird.  That’s okay.  It’s fun.

With this new job I’ll be able to catch up on my book reviews not only for my own site, but for I Read a Book Once.  The end of the semester just coincided with my old job driving me up the wall with stress.  It’s so nice to smile again.  It’s not worth being at a job you hate. Find something you love – or at the very least don’t detest with every fiber of your being.

That being said, tomorrow is Friday.  Be safe, enjoy your weekend. 

PARTY ON NERDS!

Missing

By Natasha Post

Ona was the type of place where everyone knew everyone’s business, the best sweet tea was made daily at the Mobile station down the way, and every old biddy over fifty thought they were the moral judgment of the town.  Dan’s aunt, May Cartwright, was among them.  She valued herself a Godly woman who came from a good family.  They were good Christian people who attended church, had prayer groups, bake sales, and charity events.  May directed each and every one of them with an iron fist of fire, brimstone, and judgment.  She believed she was ten feet above the rest of the town with a clean soul, God on her side, and shit that smelled like the aroma of gardenias on a warm summer day.  May didn’t think herself a sinner, but thought that just about everyone else was.  She enjoyed letting folk know it too.

It was just after Sunday church that news broke of her brother in laws unfaithfulness. May felt her family had been shamed.  A few months later the harlot announced she was pregnant, and May was certain the embarrassment would drive her to an early grave. Her sister forgave the cheating bastard and thought it the right thing to do to raise the child, since the harlot wanted nothing to do with him. 

Dan’s father and step mother had been loving parents, but Aunt May had no problem opinionating just how worthless the bastard boy was.  She’d often throw slights his way, punish him for things he didn’t do, and promise that God’s wrath was coming for him. Dan’s parents passed away in a car accident not long after he turned nineteen – which May imagined was God’s justice slamming down upon them for harboring the boy. She took in their younger child, Gidget, but since Dan was of legal age, she figured he could make it on his own.  

Dan got a job at the local tourist attraction, Swamp Lands Airboat Gator Tours, and found a small place in town.  It wasn’t much, just a one bedroom studio over the old bar that’d been around since before he was born.  To supplement the rent he did a bit of handy work around the building.  Most folk had no problem with Dan. It was only May and her gaggle of judgment bringers that felt the need to remind Dan he would never be worth the breath they were wasting on him.  It made him wonder why May had been so insistent on doing so. Dan did his best to avoid May, but since she was watching over his little sister, and anyone could just about spit from one end of town to the other, it was inevitable to cross paths with her.  He’d lived with May’s view of him for long enough and learned, for the most part, to ignore it, despite the anger it stirred in him. Turning his resentment outward, only ever made things worse.  His daddy had whipped him once when he was a child for voicing his opinion of May.  Afterwards he explained that while May was wrong, Dan was too, and he needed to learn that people would think what they thought, but ultimately, who Dan would be was up to him.  After that, no matter how cruel May acted, Dan never raised his voice and politely greeted her in turn. 

Gidget disappeared from her bed in the middle of the night, and May called him. Dan was too worried about his sister to think about how much it must have prickled May’s pear to have to ask him for help. Dan found Gidget at the cemetery next to their parent’s graves, curled up, and sleeping in the dirt.  She had started sleep walking.  He’d brought her home safe, but May didn’t thank him. She believed God was now punishing Gidget because of the tarnish Dan brought upon them. Pushing away the anger, Dan sighed and left. May took precautions to keep Gidget from getting out of the house, but every so often the girl would manage to sneak out, and May would call Dan.  She’d tell him to check the usual spots.  He’d be surprised she knew the usual spots since May never went out to look for her. Each time Dan would find Gidget, bring her home, and May would find a new way to place the blame on him.

When Gidget wandered off she was usually in one of three places: the cemetery, the park, or the drive-in.  This time, Dan found her on the highway five miles outside of town beneath the Swamp Lands Airboat Gator Tours billboard.  It was worrisome that she was going out of the town, and when Dan brought her home with bloody feet, May decided it was the last straw, and explained to Dan that she was going to put the girl in the local mental institution.  Dan started to protest, but May reminded him he had no say in this.  She was only telling him because it was the Godly thing to do.  Dan didn’t think the Godly thing was to lock away a teenage girl.

The quaint country themed living room with wood floors and tanned couches set the scene for the verbal boxing match.  Dan and May started yelling, slinging slander, and saying things that Dan knew he’d regret later, but May probably wouldn’t.  It was the first time since Dan had been a child that he’d vocalized his anger and hatred.  It escalated into fury, dredging up every memory of May trying to verbally beat him down, each punishment he hadn’t deserved, and compounding everything with the fact she now wanted to lock Gidget away.  He knocked a lamp from the side table. It shattered, the pieces scattering across the floor.  The resentment Dan had been concealing, that he had so carefully controlled for well over a decade dissolved, and so did his world.  

Dan didn’t know how much time had passed, but when the world came back it was vivid.  The sun streamed brighter through the sheer curtains over the window making the broken lamp shards glitter on the ground. A wood pecker grated its beak against a tree and a metallic, sharp scent grounded Dan back in reality.  May’s body lay on the floor lifeless and covered in blood.  Fear slammed into him, his chest tightened, and Dan looked down at his hands.  They were drenched in the crimson, his pocket knife glistening in his grip. Stumbling back, Dan fell on the couch. Gidget stood at the base of the stairs, trembling in shock with a look of horror on her face.

There was a triumphant smile on May’s wrinkle lined lips, as if in death she was justified with everything she’d said about him. Dan’s memories were missing, but there was no doubt it had been his hand that ended her life.  May have been a cruel old bitty, but she hadn’t deserved this. He could have taken Gidget and run. Dan had lost time, killed May in a rage, but if he ran now, everything she had claimed about him would be absolute truth.  He’d spent his life defying May’s beliefs of him.  There was no way in hell he was going to let her words hold meaning, especially not now.  His voice trembled as he reassured Gidget it would be all right. Taking out his cell phone, Dan called the sheriff.

***

Just a side note this was written for my fiction writing class.  I got a 96%, worked on it more based on the critiques and thought I'd post it here.  Dialogue was not allowed. I hope you enjoyed.  

Wednesday I had the privilege of listening to Rye Barcott – author of It Happened on The Way To War – speak for my college.  I also got to speak to him individually. Of course, me being the person I am, blundered my questions.  That’s not to say I stuttered, but once I was in front of him the actual questions I had fleeted far away from the sensible part of my mind, and instead I asked him other – not nearly as awesome things.  At least I had the chance to meet the guy.  Phenomenal book, though in my opinion a bit dry in places – but still worth reading.   I don’t even like memoirs, but I think one of Rye’s greatest attributes – one of his best traits as an author – is his capability to make the readers care about what happens to the characters in his novel.  Even if the story itself isn’t something you’re interested in – which to be honest, it’s not my kind of read – there’s no doubt of being utterly sucked in from the first chapter.  You want to know what happened to these remarkable people.

It Happened On The Way To War is considered in the memoir genre, but in reality it’s Rye’s perspective of what happened over the six years of his life.  It’s how he dealt with two very different worlds – one of war, one of peace.  Dual culture shock.  It’s how he spent twenty six dollars that wound up changing the lives of so many, and how being a Marine, he still wanted to taste the action of war – even if it wasn’t something he necessarily agreed with.  It’s fascinating to delve into the culture and see how such small things can change the world for the better.  Twenty six dollars, that’s how it started, but it grew into so much more. 

Carolina for Kibera (CFK) is a non profit organization Rye started when he was still in college.  It’s to help empower youths in Kibera, hopefully giving them a better future. They work with sports, healthcare, education, community clean up and more. In the words of CFK as stated on their website:  

“Carolina for Kibera (CFK) exists to develop local leaders, catalyze positive change and alleviate poverty in the Kibera slum of Nairobi.” 

You can visit CFK’s official website to learn more about this empowering and inspiring organization that is working to change the world here. http://cfk.unc.edu/ 

Rye himself is an inspirational person.  He was down to earth, taking the time to encourage and promote students dreams, hand out some personalized cards to a few, and speak with every single person in line who was waiting to have their book signed. I haven’t met many authors in person.  I’ve never had the luxury of being able to afford to go to writing conferences or lucky enough to have authors that I enjoy come to my area for a book signing.  It’s amazing because, as much as I liked the book – even though I don’t like memoirs – listening to Rye speak, and having a few brief moments to speak with him one on one, made me like it so much more because I actually got to meet one of the characters in the book.  There are a few things that Rye spoke about that stuck with me, and I’d like to share them.  I wish I had been recording the session so I could quote him verbatim, but hopefully I’ll keep it true to the man himself. 

“Talent is universal, opportunity is not.” 

“The story is not about me.  It’s my perception of the events that took place.  The story is meant to be presented to and inspire others.” 

“Make it personal so that the readers will feel the emotion. 

- Rye Barcott 

Rye is truly a great guy, a mentor for many, and an inspiration for more.  I give It Happened On The Way To War four stars.  I’m nixing one because there were a few areas I feel dragged out a bit and would have had more impact were they shortened. Even if you don’t like memoir’s (which Rye hates them and doesn’t like calling the book that) picking up this book will give you a glimpse into a world you may not have known existed and inspire you to make changes in your own way.