republished from Michael’s other site focused on writing:
I still haven’t heard back regarding the flash fiction competition and I’ve been focusing on revisions rather than posting first draft stories.
One of the revisions I’ve still be working on is “A Parley with the Troll” for submission to a local “competition”, deadline tomorrow. Based on some helpful criticisms from my wife and the instructor (as well as some student feedback) for my last class, I have performed a number of revisions that make the story a bit stronger than even the most recent version I’ve published on this site. One of the criticisms I received pointed out that there were parts of the story that were expositional in nature, leading the reader to wonder what point of view the story was being told from (omniscient was the consensus, but I had intended the story to be told from the Mother’s point of view). I made some significant adjustments in the story to reflect a more consistent POV.
As I think I mentioned before, one of my flash fiction stories was submitted in conjunction with the longer short story in order to express a varying level of written style. Few changes were made to the piece called “Control” and I have yet to decide if I will publish the version I submitted to the flash competition, or if I will publish the revised version. I guess it will all depend on the results of that competition…
Anyway, I submitted my pieces to the Loft Literary Center this afternoon to see if I will be selected for their mentorship series. I can’t take the stories back and revise them any further. There’s no turning back.
While nobody who was aware of my submission today wished me “break a leg”, I tied my best to fulfill that omen. While walking towards the Loft’s front doors, I wasn’t looking where my feet went and I managed to find an edge of asphalt in order to turn my ankle on. Sprained? Perhaps. I’m not the kind of person who goes to the doctor to see if I have a sprain or a strain (never had to deal with “broken” that I know of, but I have a crooked finger on one hand that suggests I might not go to a doctor for that either).
Anyway, I’m hoping that the powers that be decide I’ve suffered enough for this particular submission attempt and grant me acceptance into the program.
I know — wishful thinking.
Unfortunately, I won’t discover my status until August, or later. The official list will be announced in September, so I’ll have doubts if I haven’t heard anything by mid-August (finalists and “winners” will be notified before the official list is published).
Still, a boy can dream, can’t he?
