Postcards.

I’ve been having trouble catching up on sleep lately, a couple of weeks of not enough and I feel like my days are spent treading rather than floating. It’s the lack of days off and to myself lately, too many demands at once coming in the form of work, people, family obligations. October and April – the two months I’m most prone to overwork – so I’m not surprised. But still, it’s difficult to see the end.

I’m almost done with the first piece of short fiction that I’ve “finished” since I was eighteen. Finished in quotations because I’m not sure that I ever feel anything I’ve written is truly complete. But there is a point at which you let it go, and since I’ve decided to submit this one to the Geist Postcard fiction contest, that point will be later this week. I’m hoping to have another piece to send along with it, which depends entirely on my focus in the next two days.

Whether or not these place in any capacity (it’s a very popular contest), I’m feeling good about my re-engagement with writing these days, even as I reassure myself that it’s not all a big waste of time. I don’t believe other people’s art to be a waste of time – which is a helpful reminder to be a tad gentler on myself.

In any case both of my readers so far have 1) enjoyed the piece, and 2) offered some helpful critique. The thing about postcard fiction (which by definition is a short story under 500 words) is the requirement for careful editing, which is where outside eyes are needed. That removed perspective to ensure the story has actually translated from my imagination to the page. In this instance I believe I have been successful with at least that.

I am waiting for the read of one other writing friend (who I have sent three versions of this to now, each a small tweak on the last) and have pledged not to change another single thing until I do. On Thursday or so I will put this in an envelope and mail it away with hope that at the very least the contest judges won’t secretly laugh at my entry as they bypass it for those more accomplished. As if I would even know if they do.

Really, what’s most important to note is my overwhelming gladness at the fact I have reinstituted my writing practice in the last several weeks (with Brian’s help and support) and from that initial process I have managed to finish at least one piece I wouldn’t have otherwise. Overworked or no, at least the creative outlet is alive and sparking, which makes the exhaustion just that much more bearable.