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Sometimes You've Gotta Go with Your Instincts A few years ago, I ran across a story that I thought was worth a second look. It was about a dolphin researcher down in the islands of the Caribbean somewhere. Inexplicably, she was murdered, and no one ever discovered why. Well, that got me to thinking about doing an In Cold Blood type of story, narrative nonfiction, an expose, and I set about trying to get the facts, which got me nowhere. Apparently, St. Kitts or St. Barts or wherever the hell she was when she'd been murdered wasn't overly anxious for people dwelling on the story, for obvious reasons. |
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Unwilling to give up on a dynamite tale, I decided to turn the piece into historical fiction--just enough reality to lend credence to the story, and yet enough latitude to allow me to forge ahead without being bothered by all of those pesky little details we call "facts." Naturally, I had high hopes for the story. Naturally, no one was interested. In fact, I hadn't had a single publisher request so much as a glance at the property in nearly three years...until last month. Elated that someone finally found the story as intriguing as I did, I sent off the outline and three sample chapters pronto. And then I got the response.
Now, rejections are nothing new to me. I've been in this business a long time. The part that really irked me, though, was that I had always felt, deep down inside, that my outline was weak. It told a story, of course, but I was never convinced that it was the best story I could possibly have worked around the incident. Instead of listening to my instincts, I decided to send what I had out anyway in the hope that I was wrong and that someone, somewhere, would fall in love with it and make me an offer I couldn't refuse. All of which is a convoluted, long, drawn-out way of saying this: If you don't feel it's the absolute best you can do, don't send it out. Take some time to rewrite it, edit it, sharpen it, strengthen it. Then, when you're convinced that you've nailed the beast, send it out. The editor will understand. In fact, most editors would be glad to wait a month or two or three or longer for a writer who's working on improving the finished product. So the next time you get a request from an editor or a producer or anyone wanting to see some work you're not totally convinced is the best you can possibly crank out, uh-uh. Don't do it. Don't succumb. Take the time to get all your ducks in a row. After all, duck-hunting season comes 'round only once a year. Don't get caught with a 12-gauge Mossberg in your hands and all of the shells in your pocket. And, of course, always remember what my great-great-great grandmother on my mother's side never told me whenever advising me on matters just such as this: Son... Smoke if you got ‘em.
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