The Kindness of Strangers: Part III

Spring has finally sprung here in northern Illinois, and I have replaced my winter treadmill walks with walking outdoors. This morning, as I started the last leg of my circuit, I passed a woman walking a golden retriever. The dog looked familiar, but I don't think I've ever seen her before. We smiled and she asked, "Are you practicing for next week's 5K?"

My first thought was, There's a 5K next week? I told her I was just out enjoying the sun--which was entirely true.

Her question surprised me. Of all the things someone might assume about me based on my appearance, participating in a 5K is not near the top of the list. I'm not sure it's even ON the list. Yet that was the conclusion this complete stranger chose to draw.

The more I thought about it, the better I felt--in general and about myself. I've had a rough couple of weeks. I've been overwhelmed with work and have forgone many of my daily self-care rituals. Dishes piled up in the sink; laundry spilled out of my closet; walks didn't happen; my journal stayed closed. All that had left me feeling kind of down.

This woman's question turned all that around. I look capable of a completing a 5K?*** I must be taking better care of myself than I thought. I must be more able than I'm feeling.

So thank you, ma'am, for brightening the day of a complete stranger.

***In the interest of full disclosure, I am capable of completing a 5K. I did so 2 1/2 years ago, when I weighed more and was less fit than I am now. I wrote about the experience on my old blog, Getting There, here and here.

The Story Behind the Story: The River

This story is all Aroon Chaddha's fault.

Aroon was one of the first people I met, one of the first friends I made, when I moved to Illinois ten years ago. He was a member of the Writers' Support Group, the first writers' group I ever joined. He read dramatic stories about his family history in India, riotous accounts of his adventures as a husband and grandfather, and passionate essays about politics, animal rights, spirituality, and the environment.

I left the Writer's Support Group when my work schedule prohibited me from attending regularly. The group disbanded a little while later and Aroon (with a couple of other WSG members) started a new writer's group, the Schaumburg Scribes. I reconnected with Aroon when my schedule freed up and I joined the Scribes.

Flash forward to the Scribes' 2012 holiday party. Aroon approached me and asked me to partner with him on a project. I agreed. We met a few weeks later and discussed the form the project would take. We decided we would each write one 1,000-word piece a month for the next year. Each month's piece would be based on/inspired by a photograph. At the end of the year, we would combine our writings in a chapbook-like publication.

The project lasted one month. We decided on a photo of the Chicago River dyed green for St. Patrick's Day. The more I studied the photo, the louder I heard the voice of the little boy who narrates the story, a little boy who had never seen blue water or blue sky. I fought telling his story because I hate fictional stories with obvious, heavy-handed moralizing, but he was an insistent little bugger. I caved and "The River" was born.

Aroon and his wife are preparing to leave Illinois now for the warmer climes of Florida. I don't know if, or how well, we'll keep in touch or if we'll ever get back to our joint project. I do know that every time I look at or think about this story, I'll be thinking about Aroon.

Click here to read "The River."

The Story Behind the Story: A Success!

Please indulge me in this extra Story Behind the Story:

If you follow me on this blog or on Twitter, then you've heard me mention a group called NYC Midnight. They run writing contests throughout the year: screenwriting, flash fiction, short stories. A couple of the stories over on Fiction First were born as entries in NYC Midnight's 2013 Flash Fiction Challenge.

Last year, I entered my first NYC Midnight contest: their 2013 Short Story Challenge. I earned an Honorable Mention in Round 1--enough for me to feel great about the effort, but not enough for me to move on to Round 2.

This February, I entered their 2014 Short Story Challenge. I had one week to write a 2,500 word ghost story about racism that also featured a street performer. I came up with the premise of my story rather quickly. I spent 7 days struggling to write the actual words. By 5:30 pm the night before the story was due, I had a total of 800 words. Not good.

At that moment, I decided to start all over again. Same premise. New point of view. Only 24 hours to complete it. Cue the panic.

The story was due by 10:59 pm Saturday night. At 7:30 pm, I was still writing. Around 8-ish, I finished--and was 120 words over the contest limit.  I took a deep breath and short break and completed the fastest editing pass in my entire life. At little after 9 pm, I had a 2,500 word story. I uploaded the story to NYC Midnight's site, let out a sigh of relief, and let go. I still liked the premise of my story but had serious doubts about its execution, given the circumstances under which it was written. I figured my 2014 Short Story Challenge would end with Round 1 and not so much as an Honorable Mention.

Fast forward to last week, when the Round 1 results were posted. To my utter shock and amazement, the judges liked my story. They liked it so much they rated it #1 in my group. Holy crap.

My reward for such an awesome finish? Round 2! I got to do it all over again, only this time I had even less time. I had one weekend--this weekend--to write a 2,000-word story: a science fiction tale about sushi and a dentist. This story went much more smoothly and quickly this time around. I submitted it a few hours ago.

Now I wait. And wait. And wait. In a few weeks, I'll find out if my story was good enough to move me on to Round 3.

In the meantime, HOLY CRAP!

Look Who's 15!

The birthday boy. As you might guess from his expression, he is not a fan of having his picture taken. He's also in desperate need of a grooming.

My puppy turns 15 years old today! 

A few months ago, I didn't think I'd be saying those words. Last August/September, Benji went into kidney failure. Severe kidney failure. He lost 20% of his body weight and was refusing to eat. (If you'd smelled that prescription kidney-diet food, you'd refuse to eat, too.) The consensus was he wouldn't make it through the winter.

Yet here we are in spring (according to the calendar, anyway), and he's going strong. He's regained some kidney function. He's eating again and putting back some of the weight he lost. He's engaged and curious and active, albeit at a slower pace and with long naps in between. (Frankly, I'm jealous of his napping ability.)

We don't have any special celebration planned for today, but I think it's safe to say he'll be getting an extra treat or two as a reward for making it this far. Happy Birthday, Benji!

Another Benchmark Reached

It's 4:30 in the afternoon on Sunday, March 16, 2014. The sun is shining, the dog is snoring, and I completed Draft 3 of The Novel five and a half minutes ago. (That's 4:24:30, for those who are counting.)

The draft took me 10 months to complete. I cut two chapters and added six, making this draft about 4,000 words longer than Draft 2. The story is much fuller and richer now than it was before, thanks to the helpful ideas from my critique partners, but it is by no means done.

My notes for Draft 4 of The Novel. Each Post-It represents one change I need to make. Some changes are quick and easy: change X in chapter Y. Others are more elaborate and time-consuming: check all dialogue for XYZ.

I still have a Draft 4 to write. And then a query. And then a synopsis. Or maybe a synopsis and then a query. After that, I have to find potential agents and send out those queries and synopses. (Eek!)

But before all that, it's time to celebrate, perhaps with a dance around the living room and an extra piece of Dove dark chocolate.