Friday, October 12, 2012

The Watcher, Part I


April sat across from the two women on the train and tried not to stare at them.  She felt the tension from her grimacing forehead and knew that she wasn't doing a great job of averting her glance.  She had seen them on the train before. It seemed like maybe they met up at the station and traveled into work together pretty regularly. 

"Girl, please," one woman said to the other, gently slapping her friend on the arm.  "You know my boss is not going to let me take a Friday off before a long weekend."  They were familiar.  Familiar enough for one of them to know what the other's boss was like. 

"Yeah, I know.  That's why I wouldn't even say anything to him about it.  Just call in sick.  He won't want a doctor's note if it's less than three days. You can't say no to a weekend on the Vineyard.  You know I can't pay for that whole place by myself."  Familiar.  Familiar enough for one of them to know the other's financial situation.  April sighed, and turned to the back of the Metro.  She might as well sign up for one of the medical studies.  She figured that, aside from her students, no one would miss her much if she disappeared for two weeks for a sleep study.  April scanned through the ads, stopping briefly at the one about depression.  She didn't know if she was clinically depressed, or just sad.  Was there a difference?  When the two women laughed aloud, April almost cried.  Why was it so hard to find a good friend?

She had come close several times.  It seemed like she was connecting with Robin at work. Robin was one of those down to earth women who could easily be trusted, and was quick to say yes to a girls night out.  She had even invited April to be part of a book club, and even though April hated the book, she endured it to enjoy Robin's company.  But Robin's position at the school was cut, and she was working in another part of the city now.  April had never been a phone person, so they tried keeping in touch through texts and Facebook.  Out of sight, out of mind took over pretty quickly, though, and she hadn't heard from Robin in over six months.  

Just before her train approached the station, she reached the back page of the Boston Metro, and found a handwritten note between the pages.  Meet me by the Dunkin Donuts.  Weird.  She was sure that note mustve been intended for someone else.  Who wouldve even had a chance to put this note in there, though?  Just like every morning, she got her paper directly from the guy who handed the papers out to passengers as they rushed to their trains.  Morning, grab your freeee Metro.  He didnt seem like the kind of guy who wouldve written that note.  And which Dunkin Donuts?  The one at the station she left, or the one at the station she was headed to? 

April glanced down at her watch as the train pulled into the station, and realized that she had a little extra time.  What could it hurt?  She could use a little adventure.  She took the stairs two at a time and stood in front of the Dunkin Donuts just outside of the station.  People rushed out with their coffee, and in looking for their morning fix.  She stood there for five minutes, and nothing special happened.  April went in and looked around.  Everything seemed normal.  No one waiting around.  She held the door for the next person to enter the store on her way out - a teen-aged girl with tears streaming down her face. 

Thank you, the girl said to April.  Thats the first nice thing that happened to me all morning.

April looked down at the note, checked her watch again, and even though she risked being late to work, she had a prep for first period, so it wouldnt be so bad.

Are you okay? April asked the girl, closing the door, and pulling her to the side near the straws and napkins.

No, the girl said, shaking her head and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, which April noticed was bruised.  Im not okay at all.  Im in a lot of trouble.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Motivation

Facing rejection is never easy.  I've been working on my novel, or some form of it since 1994.  I remember that summer, because it was the summer I spent as an intern with Parents magazine through the American Society of Magazine Editors (ASME).  That's a story in and of itself (quick digression: I was hoping to be placed at Essence magazine that summer, because I was sure that I wanted to write for Essence after college.  Once I realized what it would mean to start at the bottom in the magazine world [fact-checking], I was all set).

Anyway, I wrote, because I felt like I was destined to become a writer (not realizing that I already was one :).  I've been writing ever since I can remember.  A few years ago, my mom gave me a poem I wrote when I was five.  My parents gave me a diary when I was seven, and I kept a journal for years after that. I entered novel writing contests through the Massachusetts Cultural Council for years between 1997 - 2003 (fiction pieces were only considered every other year).  I entered, waited, wasn't selected, waited, entered again, waited, wasn't selected again, stopped trying for a while, got my nerve back up and entered, waited, wasn't selected, and then I stopped entering.

Years later, I joined the Christian Writers Guild, and entered their first novel contest.  I wasn't selected for that, either (which was tough, because I had purchased tickets to go to the conference at which the winner would be announced, and to network, but when I found out that I wasn't selected for anything, I lost my desire to fly out to Colorado).  It was hard to lose again, but trying to get the novel ready for entry gave me the motivation I needed to finish the first draft, and the connection with a mentor whose advice I still deeply value.  She read my manuscript and gave me some great, detailed advice about how to improve the story, which I've been working on little by little.

I have been receiving daily updates from Jeff Goins' and Joe Bunting's blogs about being a writer for a while now, and reading a bit of You Are a Writer, and Let's Write a Short Story.  I also purchased Don Miller's Storyline book, which has been transformative for me - helping me to be engage more fully  in the story that is my life (all of Afrika - not just the mom part of me). But, to be honest, I hadn't fully committed to anything, because it's just so easy to get busy with the kids, cooking dinner, shopping for picture day clothes, doing Serena's hair, reviewing homework, driving to and from gymnastics, and crashing on the weekend, that I didn't want to disappoint myself by making a commitment to really write every day.  To be even more honest, being cut from my position last spring (only to see that, although I was told that I was being cut for budgetary reasons, a new position very similar to what I had been doing was created . . . ) left me quite raw, and not anxious to go through more rejection. So I started this blog to at least write something every week, and I really enjoy blogging.

Last month, I found out about Joe Bunting's Let's Write a Short Story contest, and even though I was afraid, I entered it, and then tried not to think about.  Today, I found out that my story was the runner-up!  And it's a short story I really like, too.  I feel proud :).

What I learned today is that a little bit of winning, even if it's not first place, really helps to keep me going.  It's encouraging to know that someone read my words and thought they were interesting.  I've decided to take the leap and join Tribe Writers to find my tribe, and work through the isolation I've been feeling as a writer.  I'll let you all know how it goes . . .