I wrote a short story called "How to Milk a Rattlesnake," last fall. It was a 40+ page beast of a story that I just needed to get out of my head and onto a page. I refused to touch it again until I felt well enough as a writer to reshape it the way it needed to be reshaped.

Over the year, I've been figuring out what my voice as a writer is. I've been less concerned about audience reaction, and more concerned about how I feel about a story. I realized that I couldn't be true to anyone until I was true to myself--especially in my writing life. I learned that writing is about shaping a story so that when you toss it to another person, so that they can catch the ball you threw. I'm finally realizing and breathing the truth I knew when I watched the 2001 World Series between the Diamondbacks and the Yankees. I was enchanted by Randy Johnson and Curt Schilling. The way they threw the ball. The confidence in their stance. The way they made the Yankees look stupid. But their pitches would mean nothing if there wasn't Damian Miller right there catching what they were throwing.

So I finally felt confident enough to revise the short story over the last couple of weeks, and it's now 24, tightly written pages, instead of 40+ pages of stuff I needed to write, but a reader didn't necessarily need to read.  And, for the first time in my grad school career, I felt proud of the story I wrote. I have been proud of my poetry--not whilst I wrote it, not even afterwards, only when my poetry started making sense when put to music--but I have never been proud of a piece of creative work as I worked on it, except maybe literary/cultural study essays.

I said to myself, "Even if T. C. Boyle doesn't like it, I'm proud of it." And I meant it.

And today T. C. Boyle--the man who has written twenty books, has been teaching for over twenty years, who is not just an insanely prolific writer but reader--said to me that the story I wrote was lovely, but more than that, it was the best thing I've ever written, and one of the best things he's ever read, by any writer, ever, in general.

And hot damn, that made me the happiest I've been in a long, long while.

Labels: grad school, writing

( 5comments )

at December 3, 2007 9:39 PM  charlie said...

I'm so proud of you!

 

at December 5, 2007 12:46 PM  Lorie said...

That's so awesome!
Are you going to try to get it published, or enter it in a contest, or something?

 

at December 5, 2007 1:40 PM  Jilly said...

I think so.

 

at December 5, 2007 3:53 PM  Natalia said...

Hi Jilly!

Your post makes me really happy. I would love to read your story if you would send it to me. It's wonderful that you are so happy with it and the fact that T.C. Boyle liked it is icing on the cake!

I just thought I'd let you know that your blog is by far my favorite one that I read. It's so true and insightful, and not full of drivel. :)

 

at January 5, 2008 3:55 PM  ish said...

Very happy for you and not in the least surprised. I only really know you through your writing and it keeps me coming back, so for what its worth, I've always loved your writing (even (especially) when criticizing it), but its thrilling to hear that you are becoming comfortable with your voice. I can't wait to see what's next.