Wow. This one turned out difficult. I tried this same concept, but with a closer topic, and I couldn't handle it. Turns out I've still got some repressed rage hanging around in there. Guess I'll have to write about that later. Anniversary of my grandma's death is coming up too, so I guess I'm just being morose. But anyway, here you are.

---

Carole

His hand on the bedrail beside her still body. Quiet. No more noise from the ventilator that she hadn’t wanted anyway. She’d shaken her finger at him when she’d realized.

The family with him, the friends and their party recently departed. The quiet in the house wouldn’t be new. She hadn’t been a conversationalist in a year. He would miss the routines, the daily rituals of caregiving, what to do with his hands. But he had already lost her, long ago.

She had been near death for a year. Now he was near death, but not his. He stood up.

Wow, these are some powerful drabbles. Great topic, Teppy!

Two linked ones for me, from the work in progress. Quite by accident, the timetable worked out to have these scenes coincide. (On Annabel's birthday, but that's neither here nor there.) The history behind the first one is here. The second one? I'm--what do they call it in writer school?--writing what I know.

6 April 1812, Badajoz

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead!

Suddenly, pain. Sheer, shattering fire radiating from his left arm. It staggered him, and he fell back upon the bodies, the limp and horridly yielding bodies, silent beneath the torrents of gunfire and cannon, battle cries and explosions. Now he was just another body trodden under by the storming party, and he screamed unheard as a booted foot trampled his bloody arm. Two bodies, then a third and a fourth, fell over him.

No. Not this way. Not suffocation. He refused it. Methodically he began to kick and push his way free.

6 April 1812, Gloucestershire

She stopped pushing. Two days of labor, nearly three, and her strength was long spent. No one could expect her to keep going. It was an impossibility.

“Anna. You didn’t push that time.”

“I know. I can’t anymore.” Surely Lucy and the midwife would understand and let her rest in peace.

“Anna.” Lucy, hard and ruthless, bending over her and forcing her to meet her eyes. “If you don’t push, you will die. You and the child. Both of you. Was that in any of those dreams of yours?”

Well, maybe she’d been dreaming of heaven all this time! But when the next contraction came, she gritted her teeth and rose up to meet it.

Lessons Learned from the Score Sheets of Susan's First-Ever RWA Contest Entry

1. No Book Will Please Everyone. For this contest (the Published Authors Special Interest Chapter Book of Your Heart), each entry was judged by three booksellers (unlike most, which are judged by writers). The scoresheet had five agree or disagree statements judged on a 1 to 7 scale where 7 was a perfect score.

One judge, whose scoresheet happened to be on top, gave me straight 7's and wrote just one thing in the comment section--"Wonderful." I felt like Michelle Kwan in the kiss-and-cry getting her presentation scores at Nationals, but I also knew the others couldn't be like this or I would've, like, made the finals.

The next judge gave me straight 3's and said I had too much detail, she wasn't sure what kind of story to expect or who the hero was, and said she found it tedious and skipped paragraphs. However, she did allow that my writing and sentence construction were strong. (Nothing like damnation with faint praise!)

The final judge gave me a seven, two sixes, and two fours. On the negative side, she expressed doubt about the marketability of a first-person historical, and said there wasn't enough storyline in the first chapter to enable her to make a honest evaluation of the book. On the positive side, she said she would've loved to have read more because it seemed very promising, and she wished me all the best.

2. Choose Contests More Strategically in the Future. This contest, like the vast majority of RWA chapter contests, allows you to enter just your first chapter. In Lucy, the hero and heroine don't meet until the beginning of chapter two. I think I begin in the right place for the story I'm trying to tell, but a good book and a good one-chapter contest entry aren't always the same thing. I've been picking contests based on which editors are judging the final round for my category. In the future, I'll go by that AND ones that allow me to enter enough pages to introduce the hero--like the three with October deadlines that allow 30 or 35 pages.

And I don't know what I'll do assuming I'm still an uncontracted writer working the contest circuit when I finish Anna. Anna and Jack do manage to meet in Chapter One, but her husband doesn't die until Chapter Three. Though I think I can pull it back a good bit on rewrite--I did a major backstory dump that I know will have to be shortened and/or split up, just to establish for myself where everyone stood and what I needed to tell.

3. You're NOT Too Arrogant After All. It occurred to me after the fact that perhaps it was overly ballsy of me to compete in a contest open to published as well as unpublished writers the very first time out of the gate. But, you know, two of the three judges gave me very good scores, and even the one who marked me down dinged me on a combination of marketability issues and (IMO) her personal taste. If my basic skill level wasn't on par with published authors, I wouldn't have gotten the scores I did.

You remember what it was like before him. And it was good. You remember what it was like meeting him - awful. You remember the perfection, and then when it became real, where it was good again, different from before, and you'd not undo any of it.

You remember your last dance, and if you'd known it would be the last last dance, you'd have picked something less...ironic.

You remember dithering over a sweater this morning. But picking the pretty bra and panties.

You don't remember ever having been this cold. And you can't remember the last time you breathed in.

I would totally agree that it sounds as though your work just wasn't to the taste of the second judge.

I would totally agree that it sounds as though your work just wasn't to the taste of the second judge.

Yup. It wouldn't surprise me if the judge who gave me perfect sevens has reading tastes that almost directly overlap mine, at least when it comes to romance, while the judge with the threes probably loves the books that make me scratch my head in puzzlement that they're published. Luck of the draw. And while I'd rather have lucked into three judges who all loved me, because then my chapter would be sitting on an editor's desk for the final round, it's instructive to get a broad cross-section of opinion, too.

I'd say that sounds like a good result, if not the one you were ultimately hoping for when you entered, Susan.

Go, you!!

jeepers, ita.

Susan, yup on the contest - personal taste issues on the part of the judges, both yea and nay.

Just in case it wasn't clear, I really am feeling good about this. To have three complete strangers who don't know or care anything about me read my work and get positive reactions from two out of three is validating.

Heh. Susan, you were totally clear, and I'm with you, you should feel validated. Plus, all feedback is useful.

Speaking of which, two big errands to run today plus cleaning the house, but also I need to be writing and editing today, so please do kick me out if I'm in here for more than a few minutes (I do check between bits).